What Happens in Broome
by Freida Right
Summary: /Dragons Arc/ 10 days is a long time for the unexpected to happen... Especially romance, and self-discovery. Especially for Barda. A look at how he and Lindal spent those 10 days between /Dragon's Nest/ and /Shadowgate/...
1. Chapter 1

So, this one was sort of a request, and sort of a command decision. As I pointed out to a friend, _Secrets of Deltora _claims that the best way to offend the people of Broome is to decline an invitation to dance; and apparently, the people of Broome are _always_ dancing.

Dancing or not, the things that might have happened during that 10-day stay in Broome make me giggle fiendishly to myself. Those possibilities are hilarious and… A bit juicy, if I do say so myself. XD

This was _supposed_ to be a one-shot. But 10 days is a lot of time for fluff—um, I mean, _stuff_—to happen, and there was too much I wanted to write. I try to keep pieces under 8,000 words, because when I go over, people tend to snap at me. So, because I was already 10K and nowhere near where I wanted to be, I decided to make this a two-parter, instead. You'll have the juicy second half in a few days. ;)

And, to stir things up just a little more, a lot of our heroes' mannerisms are based more on the anime than the books, because this is so silly and lighthearted. Just, you know, Lief and Jasmine being the 18-19-year-olds they are. Whoa, wait, 18-19? They grow up so fast….. (sheds a tear) Frankly, as far as the two of them are concerned, I think they are more believable in the anime. They just seem, I dunno, like actual teenagers to me. And for this thing, which gets very personal, I think it fits better. Which is why some of the dialogue might seem out of sync with the books—cuz it is. And I did it on purpose. :/

A brief note on the dances I describe later: I imagine, from the vague descriptions in the books, that the people of Broome mostly have line dances, which any number of people could catch onto quickly and join in. Like the Macarena or the Cupid Shuffle, only 5 million times cooler and funner. Perhaps they also partake of square dances, various country jigs, and maybe even river dance. But mostly those awesome, middle ages festival line dances.

That rating is not a mistake I need to go back and fix—the rating _is_ M, because I suddenly decided that I can _so_ write adultish material. There isn't much in this half. Until the end. The second half will be… Something, alright…. So if you won't be in the mood to blush like a schoolgirl today, you should probably go ahead and walk away. Like, right now. Otherwise, please enjoy the awkward adorableness that is Barda falling in love. :D

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_What Happens in Broome…_

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It had been two days already. And if Lief was to be understood, they wouldn't be leaving any time soon. Their staying in Broome was like staying nearly anywhere else in the land of the ruby. It was happy and peaceful, and the thought of having to move on was almost painful. Besides, the land around Dragon's Nest was suddenly becoming plentiful again. The sea was alive with glittering fish, and crops were springing up everywhere, as if by a miracle. It was perhaps best to take a long respite here, in the east. It was likely to be their only chance to do so.

Considering everything they had just accomplished, and all that lay before them, Barda had decided that he didn't mind it. He had been annoyed at first to be stuck in the city, while urgent action was needed elsewhere. And then he had realized that for the first time in his life, he had several days to himself, in which to do nothing in particular. He also had a companion his own age, which hadn't happened since he had been a boy.

Lindal was not the friend he would have designed for himself—it never would have occurred to him to wish for a giant woman with a shaved, painted skull as a friend. But she had appeared out of the blue, saved his life, and the two of them had bonded within minutes. After all, they had much in common. They were nearly the same height, for one. They were both incredible warriors, for another thing. They were both adventurous, and had shared a blatant disregard for rules as children, only to have a better appreciation for them as adults.

Upon a bit of discussion, they also found that they had been very young when their fathers had passed away; as such, they had also been very close to their mothers, who were now with their husbands. Finding that they shared that pain had been surreal, and perhaps a bit awkward.

That was one thing they didn't have in common: Barda had always been easily embarrassed by a show of emotions, but Lindal seemed not to mind them. In fact, though the people of Broome were descended from barbarian warriors, many of them seemed to speak of feelings and emotions freely. Lindal had started out simply expecting him to do so, purely out of habit; after learning more about him, and finding that such talk made him uncomfortable, she had begun taking care to avoid it.

That hadn't stopped her from asking him suddenly to dance on that second afternoon. And it hadn't stopped her from laughing at him when he shook his head and politely insisted that he was a terrible dancer.

"You're kidding me, surely," she said, all at once becoming quite serious.

Barda shrugged. "It's not a skill we teach our guards," he answered matter-of-factly.

Lindal looked aghast, planting her fists on her hips and regarding him in disbelief. "Well then, be glad it was only me who asked. Why, everyone in Broome dances! If you had turned down the offer from anyone else, you might have stared a brawl."

Barda raised an eyebrow at her. "Over a dance?"

"We take our dancing very seriously here. Unless you intend to spend the next few days hiding in my house, you had better learn—and quickly. Someone is bound to ask you eventually, and I refuse to be the one whose friend started a riot because he can't dance. Come along, back to the house."

And she snatched him by the wrist and hauled him away. "I shall teach you myself, old bear. You'll be dancing with the best of them, when I'm through with you."

Barda was startled by the declaration, and wondered if it was her way of flirting with him. No one had ever asked him to dance before, let alone forced him to learn. In Del, such an invitation was a form of courtship, or perhaps politics. He was glad that Lindal was pulling him along behind her, and wasn't able to see how red his face had grown.

He quickly learned that in Broome, it was very different. An invitation to dance was as casual as an invitation for a leisurely stroll to a pastry shop for a snack. It was simply how people here spent time with friends of all sorts because, as Lindal had said, _everyone_ danced. And they seemed to be dancing all the time. In fact, he had noticed that men often danced with men, and women often danced with women, and it meant nothing more than simple friendship. Such a thing never would have done in Del.

In those first few hours of learning, they quickly found that Barda was better than his word. He was an awful dancer. Lindal kept shaking her head hopelessly, lamenting that she had never seen such a thing as a man who couldn't dance. But she was determined, and he was furiously indignant, and so they kept trying long into the evening.

Lief and Jasmine wandered back at one point, after an afternoon exploring the city, and laughed at the sight of the giant woman trying to teach their beloved guardian to dance. For a time, they simply sat on a couch, watching and occasionally teasing, because the sight was apparently amusing to them. But they quickly grew bored just sitting there; after a while, Lief stood up and offered Jasmine his hand.

"I already know how to dance," she said huffily, crossing her arms. "You and Sharn and everyone else made me learn months ago."

"I know," he answered with a smile. "And you are wonderful at it. Maybe Barda just needs to see how it's done by an expert."

Also, he wisely hadn't added, Jasmine only knew one dance well, and everyone in Broome kept dozens in their back pockets. If either of them might be asked to dance at any moment, it would be smart to let Lindal teach them, as well.

Because he hadn't said this out loud, Jasmine returned his smile and taken his hand.

In the end, that instead of going anywhere that evening, the four of them remained in Lindal's home and had a small party of their own. By the time the boy and the wild girl went off to bed, they had mastered the steps of five new dances, and Barda was finally showing some improvement. Suddenly, he couldn't think of going to bed now, just when he was catching on. But Lindal insisted on a short break, because she had been dancing tirelessly since that afternoon and wanted a drink.

"Come into the kitchen," she said, beckoning him to follow. "We'll break into something fancy, for this occasion."

He smirked as he followed her. "I wasn't aware you owned anything fancy," he teased.

She scoffed over her shoulder at him. "I may be a rough and tumble warrior, but I'm still a woman. Honestly. Men!"

Barda winced inwardly, wondering why this surprised him so much. But she was so strong and free, in a way that was almost manly. She was so much like him. It was easy to forget that, for all they had in common, they were still two very different people, who did things in very different ways.

In the kitchen, Lindal was pulling etched glasses out of a cabinet, while at the same time rummaging around for a bottle of wine. She kept mumbling to herself where the bottle might be, and how she could have misplaced it, because dammit, it was the last one and it shouldn't be so easy to lose track of. Glasses still in hand, she crossed the room to another cabinet, braced one knee on the counter beneath it, and hoisted herself up to look on a high shelf, still muttering to herself. In her frustration, she seemed to have partly forgotten that Barda was still there, watching her from the doorway.

There was suddenly something about her, this way. Something that had clearly been there all along, which he hadn't been able to see properly until just now. As if he were seeing her from just the right angle to finally notice. He couldn't name what it was, it was just…. There. And it stirred something inside him, which he perhaps had never noticed about himself. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. He couldn't name that, either… But it made him smile without thinking.

_She is very pretty,_ he thought suddenly, not sure where the thought had come from. He blinked, pushing the idea away, and thought instead, _She is also a good teacher. It was kind of her to help me this way._

"What are you smiling about, you oaf?"

Lindal was pinning him with a look, hands back on her hips, now fully aware that he was there. He cleared his throat nervously and shook his head.

"Oh, it's nothing," he said quickly, glancing at the floor. "I was just thinking."

"About my ass?" she demanded.

"What—no! No!" he insisted, waving his hands, wondering if she enjoyed making him blush.

"Then what were you staring at?"

"The sink."

"….The _sink_?"

"Yes, the sink," he answered solidly, striding to stand by the kitchen sink and bracing his hands against its edge. "I was just thinking of all the small things that must have gone on around it, in the past. Meals prepared and cleaned up after, over the years. It really makes a person wonder, you know?"

Lindal obviously knew that he was bluffing. But her face softened into a nostalgic smile, and she set the glasses down on the table, coming to lean against the sink beside him.

"I've lived in this old house my whole life," she commented. "I learned to cook in this kitchen. I can't even count all the dishes I've broken in this sink. This sink could tell many amazing tales, if it could speak. It would tell you the tale of my life."

She looked up at him with an impish grin. "It's an interesting thought. I'm glad it came to you."

Now she was teasing him again. He humored her with a grin, and they shared a laugh over it. It was just another small moment, but it was a friendly, pleasant one. Barda had never particularly had friends to share moments like this with. As much as he appreciated his young companions, it wasn't the same as having real friends.

"Hey," Lindal said, glancing back at the cabinet she had been searching, "I think I finally found the bottle I was looking for. Be a good bear, and reach up and get it for me."

"Too high up for you?" he asked, taking it from its shelf with ease.

"You're taller than I am."

"By less than an inch."

"But it seems to have made all the difference."

She took the bottle and yanked the cork out with her teeth, then spit it into the empty sink. She did so with the ease of practice. It was kind of impressive.

"I'm more used to drinking this by myself," she said casually, filling the glasses generously. "It isn't every night that I have company. Most nights, I'm in a pub, dancing and drinking with my friends. Otherwise, I'm tried from a day's hunt, and just want to be alone. This will be a nice change, I think."

"You lead a busy life," Barda said, taking the glass she handed to him.

"You're hardly lazy, yourself. How many times is this, that you've saved us all?"

"Easily the hundredth. Honestly, though, little of it is my doing. I'm just… There, watching."

"Oh well, someone has to keep an eye on the children."

"Indeed. There's no telling what they might do next. There never has been."

Lindal sighed in pretended tiredness, and held up her glass. "To keeping busy."

"Cheers."

They clinked their glasses together and drank their toast deeply. Barda looked at the etched glass, and realized that the pattern was familiar.

"These are beautiful, by the way," he said.

"They were my grandmother's," she answered, looking lovingly at the glass in her hand. "It was her wedding present to my parents. It meant much to them, so they never used these if I was anywhere nearby. When I was a small child, I thought that it meant these glasses were magical, somehow. I used to fantasize that each glass might have a different power. One sip from the right one could make a person invisible, or small as a mouse, or perhaps grant the ability to fly."

Barda laughed softly. "You had quite an imagination. Is that why you have the same pattern in place of hair?"

Lindal grinned proudly, and ran a hand over her head. "I'm not ashamed to confess, I dreamed of that day for many years. As a child, I thought that having the pattern tattooed in place would give me supernatural powers. As a young woman, it was simply the realization of a childhood dream. As an adult, it's a way of honoring my family, and keeping their memory alive."

"I like that." His scalp prickled unpleasantly, and he ran his fingers through his hair. "Did it… Hurt?"

Lindal grimaced. "Like hell," she answered bluntly. "But it's a rite of passage. All our girls go through it at the age of 13, and they have for centuries. It would be a shame to be snatched by a dragon, for the sake of vanity."

"Ah, like the girl with the golden hair."

"You know the tale?"

"That, too, is an unusual tale. As it is, we've met two dragons already, and I didn't like how they kept looking at Jasmine."

"More specifically, at her hair. It's all they want, and it's always the same. If you people intend to go looking for more dragons, she should think of cutting her hair short."

"I doubt she would do such a thing."

Lindal shrugged and sipped her wine. "I suppose it's her choice, then. Oh, feh. I'm tired of all this talk of dragons and adventures. I thought we were done with all that for a few days. Back to the matter of your dancing, though."

"I still couldn't show my face anywhere in the city without making a fool of myself."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. You're getting there. Perhaps in another day or two, you could leave the house for a while."

"Unlike my young friends. They take to it like birds to the sky."

"Stop your grumbling, you bear," Lindal said heartily, clapping him on the shoulder. "Not being awful at something is the first step to being halfway decent at something."

Barda had to stop and think about that for a second. "I've never heard it put quite like that."

"Well, now you have. So let's finish this round, pour ourselves another, and get back to business."

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Lindal was an amazingly patient teacher, far more so than Barda had thought before. When she had suggested another day or two of practice, she had been completely serious. The two had gone on to spend every spare second practicing for the following two days. It became less on obligation to prove anything, and more of an excuse to just be together. Between dancing in the common room and talking in the kitchen, it was suddenly rare to see them apart.

It had become so rare, that Lief and Jasmine began to complain that they were missing their guardian. They had been in Broome for four days, and had hardly seen him at all. Barda shrugged at their annoyance; he finally had a friend his own age, who was also a warrior, who he might not see again for a very long time. Of course he was taking advantage of adult company; it was a luxury he had never been able to afford. Lindal insisted that she was just being a generous hostess, and a good friend. She also pointed out that they would take Barda with them when they left; and with all the danger they were waltzing into, she may very well never see him again.

All the same, Lief and Jasmine complained that the two were monopolizing each other.

"It's not like you miss us," Lindal pointed out on that fourth afternoon. "The two of you run out the front door every morning to do heaven only knows what, while we aren't there to stop you. And you don't return until sunset, exhausted and hungry, and expecting us to feed you."

"We've seen about as little of you as you've seen of us," Barda said, curious now that it had been mentioned. "What have you been up to, anyway?"

"Just wandering around, mostly," Lief answered. "Exploring the city, street by street. It's been nice."

Barda hummed in understanding. "Just like old times. You used to run wild in the streets all the time, before…"

"Before all of this," Lief finished somberly, glancing down at the glittering Belt. "Everything just changed so suddenly. It's hard to imagine I was ever that person once. But since we've been out every day, I've begun to remember. It's all come back, and it suddenly becomes quite natural."

"Like going back to the Forests of Silence for me," Jasmine added helpfully. "I've never seen him like this before. Barda, you should come with us next time. It's not the same without you."

Barda shook his head with a gentle smile. "No, no, the two of you just go and have your fun. You don't need me spoiling your good time, telling you not to do this, and don't do that, as if you still needed a nursemaid. Besides, I'm busy."

Jasmine rolled her green eyes. "Still dancing? Have you even gotten any better?"

"He's gotten much better, thank you kindly," Lindal interrupted, narrowing her eyes. "I said I was going to teach him, and I'm not going to fail. Just go and do whatever it is you do, and don't you doubt me again or I'll switch you within an inch of your life."

As soon as those words had left her lips, she made a stunned face and then smacked her forehead. "Ah, wonderful, I'm turning into my mother," she sighed. She turned to storm off, but smacked Barda's shoulder before leaving.

"I'm going to get a glass of water. Can I get you anything?"

"Just water," he said, earning a satisfied grin as she left. In truth, he was perfectly fine; but he knew better than to say so. Since arriving in Broome, he had quickly learned that refusing any kind of hospitality was a horrible offense. Lindal only tolerated it from him because she knew he was unfamiliar with the city's customs, and was trying to inform him before he started a street fight. The least he could do was show her that her hard work was not in vain.

Seeing him observing all those rules and customs, especially when they were so foreign to him, made her feel triumphant. It seemed like she glowed faintly every time he responded correctly. Not because she had trained him so well, but because he made a clear effort to care. And, for some strange reason, it all made him very happy.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Jasmine asked, sounding surprised and perhaps slightly alarmed.

Barda hadn't realized that he was smiling again; and he, too, was surprised and perhaps slightly alarmed. Now that he thought of it, it seemed that he had been smiling a lot lately, and that everyone else knew it before he did.

"I'm not sure," he admitted, rubbing his neck. "It's just this place, I think. We are in the land of the ruby, the land of happiness, after all. Not to mention the Sister of the West is destroyed. I suppose it just comes more easily, here and now."

Lief and Jasmine were silent for a moment, and exchanged a glance as they considered this.

"…No, that's not it," Lief said, shaking his head. "There's something different about you the last few days, but I can't figure out what it is."

All at once, Jasmine gasped and her whole face lit up, her eyes gleaming mischievously. "It's Lindal, isn't it?"

Barda looked at her in puzzlement. "I don't follow."

Jasmine gave him a devilish grin. "You _like_ her, don't you."

"Of course I like her. Otherwise, we wouldn't be friends."

"No, no, I mean you _like_-like her."

"What are you talking about? That's ridiculous."

But it was too late. They were already dissolving into uncontrollable laughter. And it was all at his expense.

"Ooh, Barda's got a girlfriend," Lief sang in his face.

"He's in _love_," Jasmine added, batting her eyes at him.

Barda just scowled down at them, unimpressed. "Cut that out," he grumbled.

Neither of them could hear him over how loudly they were teasing him. Somewhere in the background, Filli was chattering loudly and Kree was squawking to himself—probably their own ways of laughing at him. It was horrifically undignified, and maintaining his stoic silence was difficult. But he staunchly refused to react in any way.

"What the hell is going on in here?" Lindal's voice demanded from behind them. She had reappeared with a glass halfway to her lips, and another in her other hand, watching the noisy scene in her living room with a mix of curiosity and disapproval.

Unable to control their laughter, and perhaps afraid to repeat themselves to her face, Lief and Jasmine began moving quickly toward the front door.

"Oh, we were just leaving," Lief said casually, as if nothing was going on.

Lindal clearly didn't believe him, and rolled her eyes. "Of course, you were. Just don't do anything we wouldn't do, alright?"

Still snickering to themselves, the youngsters darted out the door, hand in hand. Finally, _that_ was over.

Barda glanced over his shoulder at Filli and Kree, still perched on the back of the couch, still seeming to laugh at him.

"What?" he demanded of them, pointing at the door. "You're not going with her?"

Filli gazed at him innocently, and Kree stared at him as if the question had been stupid. Apparently, they had no intention of following Jasmine today, and that was exceptionally strange. Barda wondered if she had asked them to stay behind so that she and Lief could be alone, or if they had decided on it themselves. Perhaps they were as tired of romance as he was.

Lindal was looking at him, too, but in concern. "You do know, of course, that they won't answer."

"These aren't normal creatures, Lindal. They know more than you might guess."

The blackbird and the little ball of fur hardly moved; but it seemed to Barda that they were pleased to hear him acknowledge them. Once upon a time, he had believed that they were ordinary, unintelligent, and would mostly be a bother. Now, they were like family. Now, he couldn't imagine getting by without them, and their unexpectedly useful skills.

After pondering this briefly, Lindal shrugged and handed Barda one of the glasses she was carrying. "What was all that noise about you being in love?" she asked, disbelieving.

"Only them teasing me," he answered firmly. "The two of them are just young and stupidly in love, and so they think they know everything. Pay them no mind."

"Understandable," Lindal agreed, nodding. "I suppose we all go through that phase. Happily, phases pass. All the romantic nonsense must peeve you, though."

"No, usually they humor me by going about as if nothing's changed. It's difficult sometimes, though… I watched Lief grow up, certainly; but I never thought that letting him go would be so hard. I never thought I would be attached enough to even have to. And now look at him—saving the world, ruling a kingdom, falling in love, as if he thinks he's an adult or something."

"Barda, he _is_ an adult. The boy will be 20 next year. But I think it's sweet that you care so much."

Barda made an odd face at her. "Sweet?" he said. "That's no one's usual choice of words."

Lindal snorted and clasped his shoulder. "Then let me reword that, so it sounds more manly," she drawled. Then she became sober and completely honest. "You are a good man. That is a hard thing to hide, and it certainly isn't a crime. Large, loud folk like us need sweetness, too, after all."

"Once again, I don't think I've ever heard it put that way."

"Well, how would you have put it?"

"It never would have occurred to me to put it any way."

Lindal crossed her arms. "And how to you intend to raise curious children of your own, if you can't put the pains and joys of life into words?"

His eyebrows shot up, as he was caught completely off guard. "What children? I don't even have a wife!"

"…You don't plan on having children?" she asked, surprised.

"I suppose I've never thought of it."

"Oh. I just assumed…"

"Why is that?"

"I don't know, you just seem to really like children. In any case, you're certainly quite good with them. You kept Lief alive for 16 years, after all."

"19, actually."

"Exactly. You've taken such great care of them, and you clearly love them with all your strength. And so I assumed that you would want children of your own. I meant no offense. Forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive," he said evenly, though the notion had given him a great deal to think about later. "What about you?" he asked. "Do you plan to have children?"

"When I find the right man to be their father, yes," she said, shrugging faintly. "I've always planned to have several children, and there's never been a reason to change my mind. My family was always so small; my father had died, and I had no brothers or sisters, and so I was often quite lonely. Having a nice, big, loud family would suit me much better, I believe."

"That does sound nice," Barda agreed, smiling at the idea. "I've never really thought about having a family of my own. I've always been so busy, there was never time to even consider it. Perhaps I've been afraid to settle down—marry a nice girl, have children, make a happy life—only to have duty call me away again. It would be unfair to everyone. A child deserves his father's undivided attention. Having been deprived of mine, I can't bring children into this world only to abandon them."

Lindal sighed, looking saddened. "I suppose that's wise. Wise, and bitterly true. Perhaps I've been afraid of the very same thing… Also, since I joined the Resistance way back when, I'm honestly never around; and it's hard for a man to call on a woman who isn't home. If I end up dying a childless old maid, I'll have no one to blame but myself."

Barda felt like he should say something encouraging to that, but he couldn't think of anything in particular to say. The look on her face pained him, and he tried hard to find words to cheer her. But strong words had never been his way, and this sudden strong feeling was making it difficult to think clearly.

He had never felt quite so confused before. It was strange, and it frightened him just a bit that something might be wrong with his head.

At last, Lindal shook herself as if waking from a dream, and resumed her usual grin. "Ah, well, whatever will happen will happen," she said decidedly. "Still, it's a pleasant dream. Anyway, now that your children are out of the way, let's get back to work. If we are diligent, I may be able to let you out of the house by tomorrow night."

"Oh, excellent," Barda said brightly, following her to the middle of the floor and offering his hand as he had been taught. "Then I can pay you back the dance I declined before. For all your help, you more than deserve it."

She gave him a proud smile as she took his hand. "Thank you for noticing," she answered. And they began to dance.

And they enjoyed themselves so much, they completely forgot that Filli and Kree were still there, watching their every movement with curious interest, looking forward to telling Jasmine that her guess had been right, after all.

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And so, on the evening of the fifth day, Barda finally found himself in the city's impressive meeting hall, trying to gather the courage to join the dancing throng. All of Broome had been in an uproar over the last few days, because of the miraculous bounty being brought into the city every day. This evening, the people were dancing with renewed energy, enough to rattle the timbers of their meeting hall, for they had discovered another reason to celebrate.

Apparently, Lief had blown his cover today. For the first four days, he had been happy to pass as an anonymous visitor—perhaps some had thought that he and his companions were old friends of Lindal's, from her days with the Resistance. And he had kept the Belt safely hidden under his jacket, out of sight and out of mind.

Today, however, something had happened—Barda hadn't worked out the exact details—and someone around town had noticed the unmistakable Belt of Deltora. Word had spread like wildfire that the king had been among them all along, and now the people were rejoicing over the very pleasant surprise.

Lief hadn't been sure if he would go out that night, because he was terrified of being mobbed. But Lindal had playfully punched his arm a little too hard and laughed at him.

"No one's going to mob you, you silly boy," she had said, grinning at his concern. "They just want to get a good look at you, that's all. They just want to see you, and be with you, and enjoy you. Remember, as far as they know, that's the whole reason you've come here. So go out and enjoy them, too!"

Mostly satisfied, Lief had smiled cautiously back at her. "You and Barda are coming with this this time, right?"

"Absolutely," she said in a loud, proud voice. "Now that I've trained our beloved bear to dance, I'd say it's time for him to perform for us!"

Lief and Jasmine had been looking forward to that, and so they had left long before their adult friends did. At any rate, they had been enjoying all the dancing, and didn't want to miss a second of tonight's celebration. Barda had followed them to the meeting hall an hour later; but he had followed them alone.

Lindal had left on an errand, intending to meet him before he left, but hadn't returned. Hoping he would find her at the meeting hall, he had gone on his own. He had arrived to find the building quaking with song and dance, blazing with light, long tables piled with food and drink lining the walls. A lively dance he was glad to say he could name was already in full swing, and he easily spotted his young friends amid the dancers. But Lindal was nowhere to be seen, and the disappointment was almost crushing.

Without an immediate dance partner, Barda had retreated to stand stoically against a wall, content to simply watch. He had learned this dance, and could have stepped right into it easily; but without Lindal, it wasn't the same. Without her, he was suddenly unsure of himself.

He had never been unsure of himself. Bored as well as alarmed, he had snatched a flagon of ale from a nearby table to steady his nerves. He thought back to his adventure at Dragon's Nest, and tried to think of when his head had been hit hard enough for this to happen.

He was also nervous, for some reason. Why should he be nervous? All he meant to do was share a few dances with his friend, as was the custom in this city. Perhaps he was simply worried to stumble and fall, to make a fool of himself in front of everyone, to disappoint Lindal after she had worked so hard.

If he let her down, he wasn't sure what he would do. The thought suddenly terrified him.

He drank deeply from his flagon, hoping this onslaught of awful emotion would go away and trouble him no longer.

"You've saved enough for me, haven't you?"

Overwhelmingly relieved to finally hear Lindal's voice behind him, Barda spun around to greet her, and toss a smart remark of his own back in her face for being late. Instead, his jaw dropped, and his flagon nearly fell out of his hand.

It was Lindal, certainly. But if he hadn't known her by her voice, he never would have recognized her. She was wearing a dress which seemed to be made entirely of deer hides, tied close around her waist by a jeweled leather belt. It draped over her shoulders, swooped low beneath her neck, and reached all the way to the floor. Hoops of gold dangled from her ears, and a necklace of jade and turquoise hung around her throat. She had even ringed her eyes with black kohl.

She was radiant. She was positively beautiful. Barda was certain in that split second that he had never seen a woman as beautiful as Lindal of Broome.

…But she was wearing a dress!

Pleased to have shocked him so thoroughly, Lindal put her hands on her hips and barked a laugh. "So, you still don't think I own anything fancy?" she demanded with a triumphant grin.

Blinking rapidly, Barda forced himself to speak. "Uh—um—no, not like this," he managed to stammer. He couldn't stop looking at her, even for a second. But she couldn't get his head around her, either.

Lindal brushed at her sleeve, looking well satisfied. "Any woman, no matter how free and bold, has to have at least one good dress stored away somewhere. One never knows when there might be cause to dress up. My countrymen are celebrating their being clever enough to discover their own king in their midst; and you are finally dancing. This night is more than cause to be a little fancy."

"A _little_ fancy?" Barda demanded, incredulous. "I never dreamed that you would own such finery!"

Lindal made that nostalgic smile again, and gently touched her necklace. "All this finery was my mother's, when she was my age," she commented. "It's all a bit old fashioned, perhaps, but I like to think it suits me quite well. Why? Do you dislike it?"

Barda knew that he was beginning to grow red again. He agreed wholeheartedly with her—old fashioned or not, she looked like a queen. He wanted badly to say so out loud; but he knew he couldn't be truthful without looking like a fool. And she was still looking searchingly into his gray eyes, waiting for him to answer her.

A silence stretched between them, which felt like it would have no ending. Seeing that it would only end once he had spoken, Barda cleared his throat awkwardly and finally found something worth saying.

"Can I offer you something to drink?" he asked, nodding toward the table.

Lindal was visibly annoyed that he had avoided answering her question, and so cleverly, too. She hesitated for a second, gazing at him in surprise. Then, abiding by Broome custom that was practically unwritten law, she nodded agreement, and silently accepted the flagon he brought her.

"So," he said, trying to resume his usual casualness, "you can dance in that?"

Lindal tossed her head proudly. "I could dance in any clothing, in any weather, in any place," she proclaimed. "We learn to dance as soon as we can walk. It is in our natures."

"Why is that?"

"Because of our place in this world, I suppose. Our ancestors were said to dance upon the shore when they first came to this place, filled with joy to be safe and free. They built their city on the ruins of dragon fire, yet managed to evade the dragons' wrath, themselves. And they built their city in the land of happiness, after all. They had every reason to dance for joy, and so do we. And so we do. We dance as if every day were our last. Perhaps there's no helping it."

They had already spoken of many things, in their long hours of practice; but it seemed to Barda that they never ran out of things to discuss. He always found new questions to ask her, and she always found new questions for him. Between the two of them, they had learned quite a lot about each other, and the very different peoples they came from. It was startling just how little they knew, considering the tribes of the topaz and ruby were neighbors who shared a boarder, and how unexpected they were to each other.

Because they were both warriors, they had both started off believing they would be exactly the same. Barda was of Del, and so he was sturdy, reliable, and serious. Therefore, Lindal's general kindness and easy-going manner had taken him by great surprise, especially when she made no attempt to hide the fact that her ancestors had been bloodthirsty barbarians. On the other hand, Lindal had spent her whole life rejoicing deeply and loudly in her freedom to be who and whatever she wished, unafraid of showing great feeling. It boggled her mind that Barda could be so stoic, when he had so many reasons to be filled with joy.

But it made no difference to them. In the five days that had passed, they had become good friends. In spite of their many differences, they still had much in common. They had learned so much of each other—laughed over each other's blunders, cheered for each other's triumphs, grieved for each other's losses and hurts, as if they had been together for every step of the journey.

Lindal probably knew more about him by now than anyone else alive. Lief probably didn't know him as well, and they had shared all manner of adventures in the last three or four year. Queen Sharn probably didn't know him as well—Sharn, his friend, who he had known as Anna for the longest time, who had come to know so many of his secrets.

Yes, indeed, the queen was his beloved friend from of old. But Lindal was…. Different, somehow. It was sort of funny. Barda had appeared in Sharn's life out of the blue, and so they had become friends. Now Lindal had appeared in his life out of the blue, and in five days they had become as close as friends could be.

Perhaps it was loneliness, his longing for adult company, which drove him to speak as freely and openly to Lindal as he did. Perhaps he hadn't realized how lonely he had been all along, with only a pair of impulsive teenagers and their great adventures to occupy his time. His life had been so full. But obviously, it had been missing something vital.

Perhaps she had realized the same of herself, and found herself in exactly the same place as he did.

This was more than likely the reason they spent such a long time hovering around the refreshment table, simply talking and drinking and laughing. Of course, they hadn't meant to waste so much time, when they had been so excited to finally dance with everyone else. Lindal had missed it sorely, and Barda had been eager to try his luck at it. Instead, they continued talking, and drinking toasts.

It wasn't normally Barda's way to drink so many toast in one night; but, as Lindal had pointed out, tonight was a special night. A night for breaking the normal rules, and being a little fancy. And so he drank every toast she offered, and made sure to come up with several of his own. Two flagons later, it seemed to him that the lights of the hall, already blazing, had grown a little brighter. But the song and dance had somehow grown fainter.

The only thing he was truly aware of was Lindal, laughing beside him. And it seemed like she had begun to glow, and that's he grew a little brighter with every toast they drank. She was all he could really be sure of in the blinding, blurry mess that the hall had become.

Really, she was all he needed in that moment, and all he would have asked for.

Somewhere in the background noise the hall had become, another dance ended in a roar of applause. Another song began in its place, calling all the dancers to a new formation, which Barda couldn't have named if he had tried. But as soon as it started, Linda's eyes widened, and her smile was one of pure delight.

"Oh, I love this song!" she exclaimed, grabbing him by the hand and hauling him into the crowd. "The dance is easy, and you know it well by now."

Gasping in surprise, unable to stop her, Barda felt his face growing hot yet again. "What if this goes wrong?" he asked suddenly, his usual barriers long gone.

"Don't worry," she insisted as they took their places. "You'll be fine. Just let it all go, and have fun!"

He barely had time for a last, beseeching glance at her. All at once, the dance began, and he was swept up into the tide. To his dismay, that tide swept him one way, and swept Lindal in the other. Suddenly, he was alone in this strange new world of noise and movement.

But she had taught him well, until the steps of the dance and the rhythm of the song were second nature to him. It was almost a surprise to him that his feet instinctively took the right steps, made all the right turns, and that his hands linked hands with all the right people as the dance swung him round and round the hall. In no time at all, he had lost himself in the joyous fever of the dance, laughing and singing with this host of new comrades.

Every now and again, the steps of the dance would lead him and Lindal together once again—only to have the very same steps veer off course suddenly, to spin them into the waiting arms of other partners. Whenever this happened, Lindal would laugh merrily at the unfortunate accident, and shrug apologetically at him, as if to say, oh well, maybe next time.

It was just the way of the dance, to her. She had done this all her life, and was used to the disappointment of these particular steps. For Barda, who had never done this in public before, it was nearly devastating. No matter how hard he tried to reach her, the dance always snatched her away from him. It was frustrating. All he wanted was to finally catch her hand in his, spin her around the hall with him and not let go of her, no matter what the steps of the dance dictated.

She deserved someone who would never let go of her. She more than deserved that.

The steps guided him in a new direction, and he spun away from his current partner to meet the next one. He turned on his heel, spun around—

And finally, _finally_, Barda and Lindal spun right into each other's arms.

The feeling of relief was overwhelming. They were together once again. He hadn't felt quite so at ease all evening. Lindal was laughing, as she had been since the dance had begun; but he could tell from that laughter that she was just as relieved to be reunited. They had spent the whole dance trying to reach each other. And now, here they were, spinning together across the room, at last.

Maybe it was just the ale making him think this way—but Barda suddenly couldn't bear the thought of the dance tearing her from his side again. It felt as though he had lost her, and he had just been on a small adventure to find her again.

It had all the makings of a charming fairy story.

For now, though, they were together again, and a small part of the world was as it should be.

As suddenly as it had begun, the dance clashed to an end. And by some miracle, they were still together. In fact, the dance had led them almost to the center of the great hall. The dancers all applauded, thrilled and full of happiness. The two dancers who had found themselves in the very center cheered loudest of all, for it was custom that they would be given a prize for their good fortune. All those around them also cheered for their excellent luck, and looked around for the city officials, wondering excitedly what the prize would be.

But Barda and Lindal were quite silent. For a long moment, all he could do was gaze less than an inch down, in awe and wonder that he hadn't lost his dear friend again. And she gazed back, searching his eyes for something. It was a tense, silent moment of waiting; but it was a beautiful waiting. It knew that something incredible was about to happen.

And something incredible did happen. As the noise of cheers and shouts and the stamping of feet went on around them, they clasped hands at the same time and hurried toward the great hall's oaken doors. They ran together out into the chill night, so overcome by great emotions and so enthralled by the dance that they never noticed the cold.

There, hidden in the shadow of the building's stone wall, they pulled each other close. At last, they shared what was to be the first of a great many long, passionate kisses. And that first kiss was like an explosion of freedom and joy between them. It was the long awaited release of something kept secret, something denied and explained away because of fear. It was the act of putting lies behind them, and the acceptance of the glorious truth.

They were more perfectly suited for one another than for anyone else. In spite of the ale, and the fever of the dance, and the previous gale of confusion, Barda understood that now. There was nothing wrong with his head at all. He had simply fallen head over heels in love for this incredible woman, who had fallen for him in return. He understood that purely and simply. And now that they had been separate, only to be reunited, he refused to rationalize it away. He refused to let her go again.

And so he wrapped his arms around her jeweled waist and draped shoulders, as tight as he could, and kissed her lovely face with all his strength. Her fingers crept though his dark hair, savoring the feel of it, and he didn't push her away. If anything, he held her closer. Even when her sharp, quicksilver tongue felt its way across his, he couldn't dream of denying her.

There was nothing he could have denied her in that moment.

"Come home with me," she whispered in his ear. "Let me show you something."

And, unable to deny her anything, he nodded vaguely and let her drag him, stumbling, back toward her home.

They joked and laughed all the way back, in a wonderful and dangerous daze of alcohol and romance. Neither had felt so exceptionally _good_ in a long time. And now that they were sharing the moment with each other, they felt even better. They reached Lindal's house and went inside, still laughing loudly and enjoying themselves. And then she hushed him harshly.

"The babies are sleeping," she slurred, pointing at the couch.

Lief and Jasmine had already returned from the dance. It appeared that they had curled up together on the couch, perhaps for a quick cuddle while the adults weren't around to stop them, only to fall asleep there in each other's arms. They must have been as content and comfortable and happy as their older friends were now, for they both slept with faint smiles on their faces.

Filli and Kree were also asleep, similarly curled up on the back of the couch. Perhaps they had meant to stand watch, and sound a warning when the real adults returned. If that had been the plan, it had failed abysmally.

The sight made Barda wonder several things at once. He knew all too well that the two were very much in love, but was unused to seeing it plainly. A small part of his heart was pained by it now. Having to deal with them holding hands, whispering affectionate words, or sharing a kiss where he could see would have made his furiously uncomfortable, and he was glad that they mostly hid their romance from him. But in some ways, they fact that they went out of their way to hide it from him was just was painful.

In his mind, Lief was still only eight years old, sometimes. Other times, he was still only 16 years old, and bickering over stupid things with an equally 16-year-old Jasmine. Seeing them this way was jarring. With three flagons of ale in the way, he simply couldn't make sense of his kids being so grown up.

He also wondered just how late it could be, how long he had been out, that Lief and Jasmine would have tired and wandered home first. He had thought that _he_ was the tired one who needed rest.

Beside him, Lindal struggled to contain a fit of giggling. "How cute, they danced themselves to death," she said quietly, in a sing-song voice. "We should get them to bed."

"We should leave them," Barda growled in response. "Lief kicks, and Jasmine bites."

He was absolutely serious, of course; he knew the perils of waking his young friends from a restful sleep. But Lindal began laughing again, struggling pathetically to be quiet. She doubled over from the effort, and he swooped to catch her, holding her around her waist and trying not to let her laughter infect him too much.

She held onto his shoulders and looked into his eyes again, still grinning and giggling; then her face became grave, as though she had just remembered something important. There was determination in her eyes, and what seemed like the faintest flicker of fear.

"I have something to show you, Barda," she said softly, breathlessly, as if she had run across the city to tell him.

"Show me," he said eagerly, oddly excited to see the surprise she had waiting for him. Without hesitation, she took his hand and led him past the couch and through her house, giggling devilishly all the way.

She pulled him into an unfamiliar room and shut the door behind them. Barda looked around in dazed curiosity, as Lindal lit a candle and illuminated the space. There was a bed of richly carved wood, with a beautifully patterned blanket; on its left stood a side table, holding the candle she had lit. An antique trunk bound in tarnished brass stood in one corner. A framed mirror hung from the wall beside it. The walls were hung with marvelous shells from the nearby shore, and one wall held a rack of impressive spears.

By the point, Barda didn't have the presence of mind to embarrassed to be here, alone with Lindal in her bedroom. Mostly, he was just impressed by its few but well-crafted contents. Lindal had left his side to stride across the room, and was now fumbling with something with her back to him.

She was very silent, all of a sudden. She seemed to be quite grave. Just looking at the back of her bare, painted head, Barda knew that her expression must but one of determination. But he also sensed that for some reason, she was timid and afraid.

That troubled him greatly. And the silence went on and one, as she continued fiddling with something in her hand.

"What did you want to show me?" he asked, when he could no longer bear her somber silence.

In answer, she took a deep breath and gripped the draping neckline of her deerskin dress.

"Just this," she said softly.

In a single deft movement, she shrugged the garment off her shoulders, and the whole thing tumbled down to the floor. So she had been fumbling with the jeweled belt all along, the one thing that held her dress around her. She had loosened it, and let it fall away.

To reveal nothing but bare skin.

Barda knew for a fact that his face had never been redder than it was right now. He'd had no idea what she might have wanted to show him, but… Never in his wildest dreams could he have prepared himself for this.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, to see his initial reaction. Slowly, cautiously, she turned to face him head on.

"Well?" she demanded quietly.

He had no idea what to say. Her beauty was breathtaking. Her very presence robbed him of words. All he could do was stare in awe, his mind struggling numbly to take in the sight of her. An embarrassing conversation from days earlier floated into his mind.

"_What are you smiling about, you oaf?"_

"_Oh, it's nothing. I was just thinking."_

"_About my ass?" _

"_What—no! No!"_

"_Then what were you staring at?"_

"_The sink."_

That had been the worst excuse. And he certainly couldn't use it in this instance. How could he, when her perfect, glorious shape was all that filled his mind? Beyond the straight, muscular shape of a warrior, there were bounteous, graceful curves. They were vaguely like the glowing shapes of ripe fruits, waiting for a skilled, worthy hand to caress them, to care for them, perhaps even to find them a use.

How could have forgotten yet again, that Lindal was, in fact, a woman? And what a glorious example of a woman she was.

Seeing that he was dumbfounded and not going to speak, Lindal stepped from the ruins of her fallen dress and strode purposefully back to his side. If he hadn't been so paralyzed, he would have taken her into his arms without hesitation. His fingers itched to touch her skin, hidden so long from the light by her rough clothes, as they had never itched to touch anything else in his life. If only his arms and hands would obey him…

She reached up and twined her fingers into his hair again, pulling his face against her.

"Dance with me, Barda," she whispered, her voice tight with longing. "Dance with me until the sun rises."

At last, a faint smile crept across his face, as he made his decision and finally found his voice.

"How could I refuse? It is unacceptable to decline a dance, here in Broome."

The faint traces of fear faded from her eyes, replaced at once by the joy that was so natural to them. She let him kiss her again, more urgently and passionately than the first time. As she leaned into him, he found the strength to move his arms around her, and finally touch her warm, amazingly soft skin. As he led her gently toward the bed, not caring who or what he was anymore, her hands wandered to tug at his shirt, feeling intently for his own warm skin.

She fell back onto the patterned blanket, pulling him down with her. What had begun as mere potential had suddenly become so real. There was so little room for turning back now. And he had no intention of do so, any more than she did. After all they had suffered, they deserved this. They deserved to be together, if only for this one brief moment.

He decided firmly on this, as she kissed and bit his neck, and his hands ran up and down her sides. There was no turning back, after all.

Having made his choice, he leaned over her and blew out the light.

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_Author's Notes…_

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I may have been drinking wine while writing that late part. So if you notice typos in there somewhere, feel free to point them out. I hope you had as much fun reading this first part as I had writing it.

Props to you, PJ Blindclown, who is fantastic in the face of adversity. I hope this tided you over. ;D


	2. Chapter 2

So, that was hardly a few days. But… Christmas happened…. Happy 2015, peeps! 8D

In other news, I've had to split the story up _again_, because I found myself again at 8K and _STIIIIILL _hadn't finished. So, um… There will be a third chapter. Hopefully, there won't be a fourth…

Also, references to the anime. As soon as the episodes of _Forests of Silence_ end, Jasmine gives Lief a snarky grin and tells him not to fall in love with her—and Lief begins sputtering indignantly, and Barda kind of laughs at him because _he can see where this is going_.

Also-also, there is a charming reference to the _Three Doors_ trilogy, for those who are familiar with it. It is an obscure one. It is also a name. ;D

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It was sunlight that woke Barda, as the sun rose just enough that its light beamed though a window and straight into his face. It was faintly irritating, because he had woken from the best, most pleasant and restful sleep he had enjoyed in long months. He grimaced, only half awake, and turned over to face away from the light—

Only to find warm skin in his arms, and soft breath on his chest. Startled, wondering if he was still sleeping, he slowly opened his eyes.

It was Lindal, still sleeping peacefully and comfortably as a cat. In spite of the morning coolness, the patterned blanket only reaching her waist, exposing so much of her to the light. As his arms fell around her, she stirred slightly and cuddled into him for warmth. She sighed softly, and smiled faintly, but she didn't wake up.

A flood of hazy memories came back to him. For a split second, Barda was mortified, though he knew there was no reason why he should be. It wasn't as if he had sworn any solemn vow of chastity, after all; not as part of his military training, or to himself. But it was so unlike anything he would have expected from himself. It had been a lapse in judgment, a lapse in self-control. He had broken no rule or law or promise; but he felt that he had been exceptionally foolish, and it almost made him flinch.

In the next instant, his very manly heart was filled with awe as he kept staring at Lindal's sleeping face. Suddenly, as memories from the previous night slowly came into focus, there was no time left for regret or embarrassment. All he felt was well satisfied, and oddly, completely content.

And it seemed that she felt very much the same.

Still in a haze, slightly dazzled by the beautiful woman beside him, he reached up and gently touched her face. The action was almost involuntary. If he had been more himself, he never would have done such a thing.

Barda expected her to go on sleeping peacefully in his arms, and honestly would have liked that very much. Instead, Lindal stirred again. She frowned slightly and sighed sharply, apparently annoyed to have been touched unexpectedly in her sleep again. Her eyes fluttered open, deep hazel but still heavy with sleep, and she regarded him blankly for a moment.

And then, as she, too, remembered what they had shared in the night, she gave him a warm smile.

"Good morning, my bear," she grumbled, trying and failing to bite back a yawn.

Lacking words, he simply smiled back and held her close, letting his hand trail down her bare side as he reached for the blanket. As warm as she was to him, he imagined she must be cold.

It was another thing he had never experienced in a long life of experiencing unusual things. Never before had he been moved to care for anything or anyone so carefully. Not even his mother, who had always been such a fiery woman, and refused to allow her only son to coddle her like a baby. Not even Lief, not even when he had been a small child, always bruising his shins and skinning his elbows and generally getting into unimaginable trouble. Not even Jasmine, not even when she had been injured, poisoned, held at knife point, or simply misplaced. That wasn't the way to treat independent folk, who had the strength, independence, and wit to take care of themselves. And such treatment certainly never made a person stronger. It was far from his nature to handle anyone with such delicacy.

And now, suddenly, he was moved to do so for Lindal—undoubtedly the strongest, fiercest, most independent woman he had ever known! She needed such treatment less than anyone he could think of. He was slightly surprised that she hadn't pushed him away and scolded him for treating her like a damsel. In fact, she seemed to be relishing his care. Which was good, because he suddenly felt an overwhelming _need_ to treat her gently, tenderly, as if she were made of glass.

To protect her, and keep her safe, even though there was nothing here to protect her from. Because, he finally realized, his heart found her precious beyond belief.

Even though he didn't speak a word of his reasoning out loud, he was sure that she understood. She certainly didn't seem to mind. As he pulled the blanket over her bare shoulders, she snuggled against him, folded her arms against his chest, and nuzzled his face. He caressed her arm, able to feel every solid muscle under her skin—sculpted by hard work and probably angels—and when she giggled with delight at his touch, he couldn't help but laugh softly with her. It was infectious.

She was so strong and so powerful. Suddenly, though, she was also so delicate, and so feminine. It had been hard to believe that she could be both. But now that he saw it for himself, he could see that she balanced the warrior and the woman with grace, unafraid and unashamed of anything she was.

"So," he commented, "you're red-headed."

Lindal snorted with laughter. "Auburn, really," she corrected. "Why else do you think my tattoos are red?"

They shared another laugh over that. It was one of her own many secrets, which only a very brave and worthy man could ever have discovered—though her head was shaved, the rest of her was decidedly not. Barda couldn't quite believe how accidentally he had stumbled upon it, or how gladly she had shared it.

Lindal sighed deeply and let her head rest on his shoulder. "Last night… That was quite the adventure. I don't think we had nearly as much fun at Dragon's Nest."

"I certainly preferred last night," he agreed. "Although, I hope I didn't offend you in any way."

"No," she said carelessly, "no, you didn't. You've never done this either, have you?"

"Was it obvious?"

"I was too busy worrying about myself to notice. Really, I had worried at first that you might be upset when I wasn't… Better… I had thought I was prepared; and then I found that I had no idea what I was doing."

"That makes two of us, then," he said, kissing her forehead. "Not being awful at something is the first step toward being halfway decent at something, after all."

She smirked at his words. "If nothing else, you are quick to learn," she teased. "Well, I am quick to learn, myself."

He smirked back, immensely pleased by her words. "I thought you knew all the dances of Broome."

"Not this one, it seems."

"Then perhaps we will practice again, this evening. Perhaps sooner."

"Ooh," she sighed, "I would like that very much."

She made a thoughtful face, and let her eyes wander to the ceiling as an idea came to her. Then they flicked right back to him.

"Are you hungry?" she asked abruptly. "Because I'm certain I could eat that ruby beast alive and whole. All of a sudden, I'm starving."

Barda thought about it and realized that she was completely right. He felt ravenous, and couldn't understand how he hadn't noticed until just now. Still puzzling over this, he nodded vaguely and mumbled in agreement.

Lindal looked pleased. "Then we should rise and make ourselves something to eat. And, as it happens, I have an old family recipe I'd like to share with you."

"Oh, is that so? What is it?"

Lindal pushed herself up and beamed at him mischievously. "It's a surprise. You'll just have to get up and come see for yourself, now won't you?"

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Not too long thereafter, Lief was also woken—not by sunlight streaming into his face, but by the sound of pots and pans clattering in the kitchen, and also the sound of pleasant, if not loud conversation nearby. Not quite ready to wake up, he tried to roll over on his other side, and found right away that he couldn't. Something was heavy on his arm, and wrapped around his waist, pinning him down.

An instinctive bolt of panic shot through his mind. His eyes flew open and he gasped in surprise, on the verge of crying out. But he immediately relaxed, and memories of the present came back to him. It was only Jasmine, who had fallen asleep in his arms on the couch last night.

Lief mentally smacked himself on the forehead. They had meant only to doze for a short time, just until Barda and Lindal came back. They had expected their older friends to wake them, perhaps scold them for the sticky sweet picture they made, and then herd them off to their beds. Instead, they had been left to spend the night there.

If he had been more awake, he would have found that very odd. Instead, he was mostly just aware of the stiffness in the side he had slept on all night, Jasmine's gentle breathing, and a warm, delicious smell that was wafting from the kitchen. It was so familiar. Almost like…

Jasmine gasped suddenly, and her eyes flew open in surprise. She looked right up at him with a stunned expression, and for a split second he was afraid that she was angry with him for letting her fall asleep on the couch.

"Lief, I smell pancakes."

Relieved that she wasn't angry, just hungry, he smiled and nodded. "I was just thinking the same thing," he mumbled lamely, wondering at how unsurprised she was. "And it sounds like Lindal and Barda are having a party. I wonder, what are they doing in there?"

Jasmine made an odd face. "….I imagine they're making pancakes."

In another time, Lief would have been exasperated with her frankness. Today, he found that it warmed his heart and brought a pleasant smile to his face. She didn't seemed to understand why he was smiling suddenly, because she looked a little puzzled. But the puzzlement quickly passed, and she smiled back.

"Is it morning? We slept all night on the couch? Why didn't they wake us?" she asked, frowning slightly as she finally realized where she was.

Lief shrugged and slowly eased his arm from beneath her, so he could sit up. "I have no idea. Maybe they were just tired, and they stumbled off to bed without noticing us."

"And they did drink a lot last night," Jasmine commented, sitting up beside him. "I know I saw Barda refill his flagon twice, and I'm sure he did so other times I didn't see. I don't think I've ever seen him drink before at all, have you?"

"I don't think so. He's normally so cautious. He prefers to keep his wits about him, of course. I thought it was strange that he was drinking at all last night. I can't imagine why he would suddenly decide to do such a thing."

"Oh—and Lindal! Did you see her? Did you see when she came in wearing a _dress_?" Jasmine stopped to laugh out loud. "Oh, I wish I had seen Barda's face! He must have turned as red as the ruby dragon!"

Lief began laughing, too, because he did remember seeing is friend come into the great hall the previous night. He and Jasmine had been in the middle of a dance, and had been enjoying themselves. But the sight of Lindal in a dress had been so shocking that they had nearly tripped over each other and ruined the whole dance for everyone.

They had been looking forward to watching her and Barda stumble through other dances together, but the two had never actually danced. Lief and Jasmine had continued to spin through several dances while keeping an eye on their older friends. Instead of dancing long into the night as they had said they would, they had continued to hover around the refreshment table, talking and drinking and appearing to have a great time on their own. Finally, Lief and Jasmine had grown tired and disappointed, and had left, having not seen their friends attempt to dance once.

However, for having drank so much and come home so late, they seemed to be functioning quite well this morning. Enough so to apparently make pancakes for breakfast, and bang around every pot and pan in Lindal's kitchen in the process.

Recovering from their laughter, they both sat back against the back of the couch and sighed happily. Lief took Jasmine's hand in his, and rubbed his thumb across her fingers. "I'm glad you're with me."

She gave him a rueful smile. "Oh, Lief, I told you very clearly not to go getting a crush on me. Don't you remember?"

"Yeah, I do. I'm sorry."

"I'm not."

They sat back and enjoyed that moment of peaceful, companionable silence, feeling like nothing could possibly go wrong. And then another pancake-scented draft wafted from the kitchen, and Lief's stomach growled loudly. Loud enough to finally wake Filli and Kree, who were still curled up on the back of the couch, and had slept through everything else. Jasmine began to laugh again and hopped to her feet, hauling Lief up with her.

Small and slight as she was, she had always been so remarkably strong. He had always admired that about her.

"Come on," she laughed. "I'm starving, too."

As they came closer to the kitchen, they were able to hear their friends clearly for the first time. So far, they had only heard the dull roar and laughter of fairly normal conversation. Now it was obvious that Lindal and Barda were talking about another interest they shared—food.

"I never would have guessed you were so handy in the kitchen," Lindal was teasing.

"Well, someone had to be," Barda answered, sounding happier than he had been in a long time. "We all would have starved to death, if someone hadn't been a passable cook."

"Ah, then you've had plenty of practice. Now if only you could dance as well as you cook."

"I know, I know, I'll never be as good a dancer as you—but I do have… _other_ skills."

"Ooh, yes, I know."

It was plain to Lief that they were flirting, and flirting hard. He scoffed to himself—after Barda had insisted that he wasn't in love, when he was _obviously_ in love. Lief was overwhelmingly curious, and wanted to keep listening. But Jasmine hauled him right into the kitchen, too concerned with her own hunger to care.

"Hey," she greeted loudly, dragging Lief behind her. "Is there breakfast ready? We're starving!"

Yes, indeed, Lindal and Barda had been making pancakes. There was an impressive stack of them on a plate beside the stove, and it seemed that more were going to be added shortly. Barda was leaning against the kitchen table with a large, full-looking bowl in his hand, stirring its contents while Lindal gracefully flipped a pancake in a small pan over the stove. There were cracked eggshells and specks of flour everywhere, and the room was thick with the scent of spices and sugar.

Lief was used to seeing Barda cook, because what the man had said was true. He had always been the team cook; and it was a good thing, too, because neither Lief nor Jasmine had cooked a meal in their lives before their journey began. Neither of them were terrific at it, either. But what little they did know of it, they had absorbed from Barda, who was a decidedly fantastic cook.

So really, it was no wonder that he had accidentally, unwittingly fallen in love with Lindal, who was also a fantastic cook. If the way to a man's heart was through his stomach, it was easy enough to see how it had happened.

Lief mentally shrugged as his hungry, half-asleep mind accepted this. Mostly, it just wanted to eat those pancakes. All of them.

As Jasmine dragged him further into the kitchen, Lindal looked up from her pancake flipping and rolled her eyes at them.

"Didn't we feed the two of you yesterday?" she drawled.

"Yes, but that was yesterday," Jasmine drawled back, sliding into a chair at the table. "This is today. You don't really plan to eat all those pancakes by yourself, do you? You're going to need help! Luckily for you, Lief and I are starving, and would love to help."

Lindal sighed sharply and looked over at Barda. "What do you think, old bear? Should we share?"

Barda shrugged, still stirring his bowl of batter. "Well, he is our king, and she is our future queen, so I suppose we're stuck between a rock and a hard place."

Lindal made a stunned, thoughtful face as she considered this. "That is a good point. I had quite forgotten. Alright, fine, _your majesties_. Seeing as we, your humble subjects have no choice, of course we will share. And I would curtsey, too, but I'm rather busy."

Lief and Jasmine exchanged a smirk, doubting very much that Lindal knew how to curtsey properly. Jasmine probably could have taught the woman a thing or two about it. She had been forced to learn, along with how to waltz, not too long ago. She had found it tedious and annoying to learn; but it must have made her feel good to know how to do something that Lindal did not.

"So, what happened with the two of you last night?" Jasmine asked, as Lindal placed a plate of pancakes in front of her. "You both _said_ you were going to dance, and then you never did."

"What? You didn't see us?" Lindal asked, pretending to be offended. "It was my impression that everyone had seen us."

"We didn't dance long, though," Barda added, handing his bowl over to his friend. "We only managed one dance before we came home, but I'm sure that there were many, many more before the last person went home."

"I thought you had made plans to dance all night," Lief pointed out, digging into his own plate. "What happened?"

"A change in plans."

"Is everything alright? You're not hurt, are you?"

"No, not at all," Barda answered, glancing over his shoulder at Lindal. "Actually, everything is rather excellent."

Lindal tossed a sly smile back at him, and then returned her attention to her pancakes.

Jasmine scoffed at them. "So you _are_ in love. I knew it."

Now Lindal scowled at her. "Fill your gobs with pancakes, already."

Following her command, Lief and Jasmine began to eat. As they took their first bites, they were suddenly stunned. They could scarcely remember the last time they had tasted anything so wonderful. It was like that only good moment in Noradz, when they had tasted chocolate for the first time. The taste of their food was so overwhelmingly wonderful, it nearly knocked them over. Jasmine let her fork fall from her hand and clatter on the table, astounded.

"Lief? Jasmine? Are you alright?" Barda's voice sounded concerned.

"These pancakes," Lief muttered with his mouth full, "are the best pancakes in the history of pancakes!"

Lindal snorted with satisfaction. "That's what everybody says. I hope you appreciate them—they're an old family recipe, and I don't make them for just anyone. But this morning was… special, I decided."

Recovering from her daze, Jasmine spun around in her chair to look at Lindal. "What's so special about it?"

"I thought we would celebrate Barda's dancing."

"He only danced one dance. He probably wasn't that great, either."

"It was a long one, much longer than normal; and he danced like a true expert, thank you very much. Besides, I woke up ravenous, and decided that I wanted pancakes."

"But—"

"No. Great pancakes are not to be questioned—merely eaten. Now, I say again, stuff those pancakes in your gob, and stop pestering me with dumb questions."

Of course, Lindal was only teasing. But as Lief obeyed her and took bite after glorious bite, it felt more and more like she was trying to hide something.

"So, what did the two of you have planned for today?" Barda asked. "Running around the streets again, I imagine."

Lief shook his head. "Not after yesterday. There are some people who want to talk to me about things… I would rather run around the streets, but I don't think I'll have any peace until I've acted like a king for a few hours."

"And I've agreed to go with him," Jasmine added. "Apparently, everyone wants to get a good look at the future queen. You didn't say anything to anyone, did you, Barda?"

"Not that I know of. Perhaps the people of Broome are just good at noticing things," the big man suggested.

Jasmine sighed, and crammed a large bite of pancake into her mouth for comfort. "In any case," she said in a rather sticky voice, "we will be out in a little while, and don't plan to be back until supper time."

"What about the two of you?" Lief asked, waiting until he was finished speaking before he took another bite. "What were you going to do today? If you aren't busy, you could come meet us for lunch."

"Where were you going to go?" Lindal asked.

"There's a small place near the square where we've been going. Jasmine's ordered their fish stew three days in a row."

"Oh, I know the place," Lindal agreed. "Perhaps we will meet you later. As it is, my house is a wreck because of you people, and I've been too busy dancing lately to put it back in order. I'm doing chores today."

"And I've agreed to help her, since the two of your have other things to do," Barda added dryly, though he was smirking at them.

Jasmine looked embarrassed. "Oh, we can stay and help you, if you need us to. It's no big deal."

"No, no, it's really fine," Barda insisted quickly. "If the people want to speak with the two of you, you should go and see to them. Lindal and I will be fine on our own."

Jasmine made a face, immediately suspicious. "Are you sure?"

"Of course he's sure," Lindal answered. "We've been doing dishes and sweeping floors far longer than you have, after all."

For some reason, it seemed like they were answering a little _too_ quickly. Lief suddenly had a few suspicions, as he knew Jasmine certainly did. She was watching them out of the corner of her eye, trying to figure out what they were up to.

Barda was suddenly different from the man they had always known. He didn't seem particularly different from the last time they had seen him, only just last night; but there are something definitely changed about him. They couldn't put words to it, or tell if it was even really there.

Perhaps it was just the way he kept glancing at Lindal, and the way she kept glancing back, as if they were exchanging some amazing secret over the heads of their younger friends. It was like they were pretending that they weren't in love for the sake of their stubbornness, but clearly not trying. At least it was kind of like admitting how things really were.

And so, after helping clean up the kitchen a bit, Lief and Jasmine prepared to leave, about an hour later. It was a good day for being out and about. The sun was shining, and the air was cool and crisp. Kree was on Jasmine's shoulder, squawking impatiently, as she gently pried him off and set him on the couch with Filli.

"No, Kree," she said firmly. "You can't come with us today. Your neck is still hurt, and you're never going to heal if you don't take it easy. Just stay here and rest. Filli will stay and look after you, won't you, Filli?"

In answer, Filli snuggled close beside Kree, nuzzling him in an almost teasing way. Kree looked absolutely indigent, and was utterly silent.

"That settles it, then," Jasmine said finally, kneeling to pat them goodbye. So only Lief saw her lean close and whisper to them.

"Keep an eye on Barda for me. He isn't himself today. If he does anything strange, let me know when I get back, okay?"

And so Leif and Jasmine left the house, hand in hand, completely alone. At least for a few minutes.

"Do you really think he needs watching?" Lief asked her. "I mean, he's always watched over us—and now we're the ones watching over him! It's funny, don't you think?"

"Yes, very funny," she agreed, laughing shortly. "All the same, let's wait and see what Filli and Kree have to say when we get back. I'm curious…"

2222222222

Unaware that Filli and Kree were still in the house, Lindal and Barda sighed with satisfaction as they heard the front door close.

"Ah, finally, they're gone," Lindal sighed, putting away the last of the plates. "I thought they would never leave!"

"You weren't serious about the chores, were you?" Barda asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Oh, of course not," she answered, aghast at the idea. "I may have been busy, but not so busy as to let my house go to hell. I'm sure that my mother would come back from the grave and strangle me, if I did such a thing."

"That's a relief. I was going to say, it would hardly take two people to clean this place. You sounded so serious before, I thought you had forgotten."

Lindal gave him that wonderfully mischievous smile and sidled up to him, gripping his shirt and pulling him closer. "Me? Forget? Now, now, would I do a thing like that?"

He laughed softly as he wrapped his arms around her. "It would be quite unlike you."

She laughed back and let her hands slide around his neck, her fingers creeping into his hair.

"You're always in my hair, it seems," he commented, grinning.

"I like it," she answered plainly, pouting teasingly. "Having none of my own, perhaps I am jealous. Besides, look how useful it is."

To prove her point, she gripped him by his dark hair and pulled him into a kiss he hadn't quite prepared himself for. He gasped in surprise before melting right into her, knowing immediately that it was going to be a good rest of the morning. There was still so much of it left to be had, and she was going to occupy all of that time.

On a whim he was too excited to ignore, he bent to sweep her up into his arms, and carried her with purpose out of the kitchen toward her bedroom. She yelped in shock, and began to laugh uncontrollably.

"Barda! What in heaven's name are you doing? Put me down!"

"Lindal, please, I've always wanted to do this."

Not displeased in the slightest, she nuzzled his neck and whispered in his ear. "You're such a funny little bear."

"Well, you are a clever and beautiful lynx, if there ever was one."

And, just as Barda had predicted, it was an extremely good rest of the morning. It was so good, in fact, that it was nearly a full two hours before Lindal finally pried herself from his arms and rolled out of her bed, searching the floor for her scattered clothes.

"The children will be expecting us, shortly," she pointed out, a fiery excitement in her hazel eyes. "If we don't meet them soon, they will get suspicious. I'm having far too much fun to let _that_ happen."

Unable to share her concern, Barda sat in bed and watched her lovingly as she picked up her clothes. He had noticed that she grumbled and swore quietly to herself while searching for things, especially things which she felt should be easy to find. In this instance, it was her shirt. She had gathered up the rest of her clothing, but kept peering around the floor trying to find it, cursing herself for losing it because she liked that shirt and had looked forward to wearing it today.

It was like that split second that had caused him to fall in love with her in the first place—as she had searched her kitchen for a misplaced bottle of wine, grumbling all the way and generally being exactly, unabashedly who she really was. It was such a pure, perfect picture of herself: generous with what she had, always about getting things done, but innocently impatient.

And this earnestness to keep their affair a grand secret, as if it could be discovered and ruin them at any moment, was nothing short of adorable. It was as if she had become a girl with a wild imagination once again. Barda had never been one for games of make-believe; but he, too, felt like he had become a boy again. A person with fewer cares and troubles and responsibilities, and far more opportunities and potential. A person to whom less life had happened, yet. A person who was free to live and love as he pleased, because rules and duty did not bind him.

The kind of person who could lose himself in the innocent, wild girl that Lindal had become. The kind of person who she, in return, could lose herself in.

Something clicked in his mind, as he thought of this. Suddenly, the idea of Lief and Jasmine courting was much easier wrap his head around. All at once, it made perfect sense to him, because he had found a wild girl of his very own. At last, he understood them.

Pondering this new idea, Barda glanced down at the tangled blanket and caught sight of something that didn't belong there. He reached out and pulled the very object of Lindal's searching from a fold in the blanket.

"Oh, here's your shirt," he said, holding it out to her with a laugh. "It's been here, right where I left it, the whole time."

Sighing in frustration, Lindal plodded back to the bed, snatching her shirt back as she sank down on the mattress. "Thank you," she said tightly. "And there I was, about to crawl under the bed, cursing myself like a lunatic. Forgive me for that; it must have been unsightly."

"Not at all," he insisted, gathering her back into his arms. "I find it rather charming."

To his surprise, she blushed a bit and ducked her head, as if she really were a shy little child. "Well, you would be the first. Doom always found it irritating; and so did everyone else…"

She seemed embarrassed by those words, perhaps unsure of where they had even come from and why she had spoiled such a nice moment with them. To distract herself, she shook her head and smiled.

"Oh, what does it matter? All of that is behind me now," she said firmly, resting her head contentedly on Barda's shoulder. "The future is going to be much better, I can see that much."

She sighed happily as Barda kissed the top of her head, and ran his strong hands over her back and shoulders. He didn't like to think of spoiling this perfectly perfect morning any further, but that unexpected comment had brought all kinds of questions to mind. It was a part of her life she had avoided talking about, so far. Maybe it was better to leave those questions unasked.

At the same time, he thought, things had changed dramatically between them. And she had been bothered by her own words, just as he had been. He could feel it. He longed to know what was troubling her. Then, perhaps he could help her.

"Lindal, may I ask you a personal question?"

She lifted her head to look at him as if he were mad. "Barda, you've seen me naked twice. You hardly have to ask."

Now it was his turn to blush unexpectedly. Hearing it put so bluntly was startling; but he liked the sound of it more than he felt he should. He shook himself a bit and found his voice again. "We've spoken little of your time with the Resistance, but… That kind of life hardly suits you. How did you end up with them, anyway?"

Lindal maintained her pleasant smile; but the teasing, light-hearted gleam in her eyes died at once. "…That _is_ personal," she said quietly, settling heavily into his arms. "And it is quite a story."

He also settled himself, holding her large, lovely body comfortably in his arms, and taking her hand in his. To convince her that he was willing to be a safe place for her.

"Tell me. I'm listening."

"You don't want to hear about that. It's a frustrating tale. You shall want to punch Doom's teeth out next time you see him."

Barda shrugged. "He's had it coming, anyway."

Lindal sighed in defeat. "True enough… Very well, I suppose I'll have no peace until I've told my sad story. It all began about nine or ten years ago. I left the city one afternoon with three of my friends, on a hunting trip. We had meant only to be gone for the afternoon, but we were still empty-handed by the time the sun had set. And, being the proud, self-absorbed youngsters we were, we agreed not to return home until we had some sort of game to show for our journey. So we made a camp for the night, not terribly far from End Wood. Not terribly far at all from the place where I found you… Oh, you may be able to see where this is going, by now…"

Lindal bowed her head and gave a harsh, mirthless laugh, her voice haunted. "So, yes, two of them ventured into the forest while the other two of us weren't watching—again, because we were all stupid youngsters with no sense. Everyone always says not to go into the Forests at night. Some children simply don't believe that. Some children fancy themselves invincible. Kaz and Mona certainly didn't…"

Barda swallowed hard. This was not the way he had expected this story to begin, and he was already nervous of where it would go next. "What did the rest of you do?"

"We waited until dawn to venture after them, praying beyond all hope that we would find them alive." Lindal stopped and sighed sharply, still not looking up. "We did not. That blasted Orchard Keeper made short work of them. And Lee, my best friend from childhood, was so grieved and panic-stricken that she blundered right into a Silence Spider web, hardly five minutes later. The damn thing bit her, killed her instantly, and then jumped at me. I don't even know how it missed me. By all accounts, I should have died there in End Wood."

Having lost all of his childhood friends in one fell swoop, himself, Barda was moved to insist that he understood; but he knew, haunted as she was, that she wouldn't appreciate it. Instead, he held her a little closer and began to rock her slightly. "How did you survive?" he asked, curious in spite of the tragic tale.

"Oh, I couldn't tell you," she said, poorly faking her usual briskness. "A trick of fate, or sheer dumb luck, I could never say which for certain. As the spider jumped at me, I tripped over a fallen branch. I toppled backward, hit my head on something, and lost consciousness. When I eventually woke, I was in a cave, surrounded by folk I had never seen in my life before. I had no idea where I was, or what had happened. And then… Doom showed up, and explained everything.

"He had been passing by End Wood, and seen signs of our camp. He said that he had followed our trail on an impulse he couldn't explain, because surely anyone who had ventured into those trees at night should have been dead by then. And, naturally, he found me unconscious in the middle of the path, while the forest creatures devoured my friends. The man delayed his business, and went out of his way to rescue me. He brought me to the eastern stronghold, where the other Resistance fighters there looked after me. Apparently, I slept like a rock for three days solid. And I woke to discover that I rather owed Doom and his Resistance my life. They had saved it, after all."

"And so you joined them."

"Yes, I did. It just seemed right to do. And, in that moment, I suppose I was embarrassed to return home. I felt that I had failed my friends, and that I had failed my people, and didn't want to stand before them that way. At the time, it seemed better to hide, to start over, to make an actual difference in our world. It was all I thought I could do, for a while."

"How long did you stay with them?"

"Five years, maybe a little more. And it was a productive five years, I can't deny. I met many varied people and learned much from all of them; they all learned a thing or two from me, too. For the first time in my life, I had friends who weren't from Broome. I had always thought that others would dislike me, because of my looks and admittedly rough ways. In fact, I found that assumption to be quite untrue, and I enjoyed my work and my place with them. For a long time, I was quite happy. But… Well, time wore on, and I missed my home more and more, and I finally realized that the shame I had felt before was silly. I hadn't seen my mother in five years, for pity's sake! I wanted to go home."

"Hm. I wonder how Doom felt about that…"

"Poorly, as you can well imagine. He forbade it when I asked, said it would only endanger the Resistance, and the unknowing people here in Broome. We had become somewhat friendly by then, but we quarreled over it loudly and bitterly whenever he was at the stronghold. And finally, after the loudest of the fights, I took matters into my own hands. I snuck out of the stronghold as soon as he had left, and ran toward home without looking back."

Barda was overtaken by a sense of nostalgia. He could imagine very well how those fights must have gone. A memory of Dain stabbed at him—when the disguised monster had led him and his young friends to the western stronghold, Doom had been furious enough to scold the boy in front of the entire Resistance group. And he had said basically the same thing, then. Trusting strangers had been a dangerous business for them, when spies had been everywhere, and their success depended upon secrecy.

Doom still refused to trust people; even if the Shadow Lord and his spies were driven out of Deltora once and for all, Barda was sure the man would never let that wall come down. Perhaps, he reflected, the way that Dain had foiled them so perfectly had something to do with it.

He wondered vaguely, if Doom had taken so strongly to Dain because he reminded him of Lindal…

"I reached the city wall as the sun was rising," Lindal was continuing. "You should have seen the guards when I came up to them, out of breath from running all night, covered in mud—and alive!" She smiled faintly at the memory. "Never will I forget that moment. I had grown up with those boys. They had joined the service while I had been away, though I had never would have expected it of them in a thousand years. They had both changed as much as I had. We nearly didn't recognize each other. But when they realized who I was… They looked as though they had seen a ghost."

"To their credit, that is probably what they thought they were seeing. You must have been happy to be back."

Lindal's smile faded. "In some ways. Oh, there was enormous celebration, with food, and drink, and song and dance. For a few blessed hours, all was exactly as I had left it. I hadn't been so at ease in years. And then I looked around, realized that my mother hadn't come to greet me, and asked why she hadn't been summoned. Everyone kept saying that after I had vanished, she had suffered problems with her heart; she succumbed to those problems less than a year later… And that was how I found that my mother had died of a broken heart."

A heavy silence settled between them. Certainly, they had discussed their mothers before, over the past few days, and vaguely mentioned what had happened to them; but mostly, those scars were too personal to speak too deeply about yet. So yes, Barda had known that Lindal's mother had passed away because of her failing heart. But this…

Again, he was sort of stunned at how readily she had volunteered such a deep secret. And, again, all he could really do was hold her even closer, safer than before, and protect her as best he could from the rest of the world's cruelness.

As she pressed her cheek to his bare shoulder, Lindal laughed bitterly. "She left me this house, and everything in it, you know," she murmured. "She never gave up the hope that I might still be alive, somewhere. She never gave up on me… And still, it was because of me that she died."

"Lindal, that's not—"

"I shouldn't have been so selfish," she muttered. "If I had just screwed up my courage and come home, instead of hiding from pretended shame, perhaps she would still be alive. I would have seen her again, at least. If I had known that day that it would be the last time I would get to hug her, I would have hugged her a little longer. Perhaps I would have just stayed home, and avoided the whole thing. Instead, I have to live with the fact that I worried my mother into her grave."

Barda couldn't bring himself to believe that. The guilt his dear friend insisted on carrying was unfounded, he thought. Then again, how long had be blamed himself for his own mother's death, when none of it had been his fault, either?

"I spent many years thinking the same thing of myself," he commented quietly, hoping that it might comfort her to not be alone in that unique kind of suffering. "'If only I had paid better attention,' I used to say to myself. 'If only I had been stronger,' 'If only I had been faster,' 'If only I had just stopped and listened, like a good son should, my mother would still be alive.' It is a lot of guilt to bear alone, in silence. It never really goes away."

"No…" She sighed. "And it was a good thing mum had left me the house, because once Doom found out I had left the stronghold, he kicked me out of the Resistance."

Barda straightened and gazed down at her in amazement. "He _what_? After all you had just been through?"

Lindal chuckled ruefully. "I warned you, you'd want to punch his teeth out. Yes, he kicked me out. He came to this house to personally scream at me and call me a traitor in front of half the city. He dumped a pile of my things on the stoop, told me to avoid the stronghold if I valued my life, and then turned and left without another word. We didn't speak for a long time after that."

"It seems a wonder that you spoke again at all. How on earth did that happen?"

Lindal shrugged faintly. "Even Doom has his seasons. He realized not too long ago that he still needed my help, even if I can't follow orders. A few years later I suddenly received a note from him, asking me for help smuggling some people and the supplies they carried safely to the stronghold. I had made a name for myself as a cunning warrior and a skilled hunter; and so he had heard of this, and knew I could get the job done. Also, in a rare show of affection, he remembered that I was still a friend that he could trust.

"And so that rift was mended, and life went on. Hilariously, I found myself working for the Resistance once again—only this time on the outside, in the fresh air and open spaces where I belong. And we were all happy, at least as much as we could be. And… Huh. I suppose that's really where the story stops being interesting. For a long time after that, nothing really happened. And then Lief and the Belt happened, and then things started getting interesting again."

Barda hummed thoughtfully to himself, reflecting on how very interesting things had become since then. "Three quests later, and the Shadow Lord is still lurking in our land. At least, now that those 16 years of waiting are past us, it's not boring anymore," he said dryly.

"You people certainly keep the rest of us on our toes," Lindal agreed, just as dryly. She raised her eyes to look into his, and then smirked at him. "You do realize, of course, that you now owe me a personal story of your own, my bear."

He sighed in defeat. "Yes, I suppose I do. Ask any question you wish, my lynx, and I will answer."

She glanced over his shoulder at the window, minding the position of the sun, and made a face. "We ought to get ready to go," she said slowly. "The children will be wondering where we are; and if they miss us, they will demand later to know why we never showed up. Besides, I'm starving again, and that fish stew has been in the back of my mind, calling to me, ever since they mentioned it. It's quite good. You would like it."

Barda groaned and flopped back on the bed, pulling her with him. "But that will be twice today I've had to get dressed," he whined. "That is far too much work to ask of any man. I'd much rather stay here with you, just as we are."

"Barda, come along," she insisted, only half teasing. "In all seriousness, a little lunch would be excellent right about now, don't you think? How are you not starving?"

"How are you _always_ starving? Besides, how could I like anyone's cooking more than I like yours? Surely, we can eat like kings here, all on our own."

"Stop being so stubborn! I've barely been out of my house in six days! If I don't get out of here, just for a little while, I shall lose my mind. Now come on, get up and get dressed."

With that, she climbed off him and snatched her shirt back up, holding it up briefly to make certain it was still clean. "There isn't anything on it, is there?"

"No, not that I can tell."

"Ah, excellent," she said with a grin, ending to pick more clothes off the floor. "It is chilly outside today, so I suggest you put these on right away," she teased, tossing the leggings she had picked up at Barda's head. "I would hardly do for you to catch a cold, now would it? Also, imagine the sensation you would cause."

And so, Barda reluctantly got up, dressed again, and let Lindal haul him out of her house, into the crowds of Broome. And it seemed that she felt no more fear for him starting a fight over his lack of proper manners. He imagined that his recent progress filled her with pride. And that success filled him with pride, as well. It promised to be a fine rest of the day.

That night, he silently promised himself, nothing in the world would prevent him from dancing with the woman who had stolen his heart.

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_Authors' Notes…_

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Not exactly where I would have wanted to end this section, but feh. I've been struggling through it since before Christmas, and I need it to be done. Followers need it to be done, also. So it is done right now, darn it. ;D


	3. Chapter 3

_AAAAAAAAaaaaaaaand_ there is going to be a part 4. Because 12K and 23 pages is entirely too long for a chapter to be. ! #$, ! #$, asdfghjklkjhgfdsasdfghjkl. Ug, kill me.

I have one question, and one question, only: DELTORA QUEST FANDOM? If you are interested, look up "Post-Deltora Syndrome" in the forums. The loveliest of us have just started it up, and will always welcome new friends. :)

I'd like to thank PJ Blindclown and KM2000 for being fantastic sounding boards for my various DQ-related schemes. Between the three of us, I like to think we've come up with some interesting ideas to ponder. Thanks in particular to KM, I happened upon a dangerous secret for Barda to share in a bit. Ooooooh, it's a juicy one. 8D

On a slightly creepy note, I have checked the traffic stats for this story, and—

BRAZILIANS, SLOVAKIAN GUY, I CAN SEE YOU. REVIEW THIS FIC, DANGNABIT.

On today's reference menu: more allusions to the anime, and probably a few subconscious nods to Rowan. I've been working on…. Things… ;D

I have also relied heavily on _Secrets of Deltora_ for facts about Broome. This companion book was written from Doran the Dragonlover's point of view, and so is extremely helpful for those of us who need details. If you haven't at least glanced over it, you should try and find a chance to do so. It's got a secret message to decode, a prologue and epilogue from _king_ Lief, and so much epic foreshadowing your head will start spinning. It's really so great…

And, in other news, January is the devil.

Anyway.

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Once again, it was well into the night, and Barda and Lindal were just arriving back at her home after having danced, and danced, and danced, just as they had planned. And they might have stayed longer, except they had business to attend to. A dance of a different kind was on both their minds. They had only stumbled through it twice, after all; clearly, they needed to practice more.

As Lindal stopped on the stoop to fumble for her house key, and Barda was left to stand and wait behind her, he smiled and hummed thoughtfully. She was at it again, grumbling and swearing as she searched her pockets for that dratted key—the only key on her person, so why the devil could she not find it? Apparently, other people found it irritating and unsightly. He, personally, found it strangely charming.

Hearing his humming, Lindal looked up to glance at him over her shoulder. "What is it?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing, I was only thinking."

She smirked at him, hazel eyes gleaming, as she finally produced the key. "About my ass?" she teased.

"Naturally," he agreed lightly, as she opened the door and graciously stood aside for him. "What else could possibly dare to be on my mind?"

"Well, one never knows when the kitchen sink might like a dance."

"You will never let me live that down, will you?"

"Not to your dying day, you old bear. It was simply too rich to forget so easily."

As she closed the door behind them and locked it fast, a surprising thought occurred to Barda. It struck him a little like lightning, because now that he had realized it, it seemed alarmingly obvious. Why hadn't he thought of it before?

"Lindal," he asked slowly, "how did you know to call me a bear?"

"I'm not sure I understand," she answered, genuinely puzzled.

"That's what they used to call me, when I was a young man—Barda the Bear. How did you know it?"

She blinked in surprise. "I don't think I did. I suppose a certain two-faced clown might have mentioned something vague a long time ago, but I feel I would have remembered that. I just thought it suited you well. You are quite bear-like—in size, stature, and heart. And, if I might say, I rather like that about you."

Supremely pleased by her words, he slid his arm around her waist as they walked into the dim common room.

"On that note," she continued, "why do you keep calling me a lynx?"

"Because I thought it suited you, I suppose. I liked the sound of it. It just seemed to fit."

"Well, if I must be a lynx, I'm glad I am yours."

They had only taken another few steps into the common room when a light suddenly flared in the kitchen. Looking toward the light, they were slightly surprised to see Jasmine leaning against the doorway; even though they couldn't see her face properly, they could both feel her scowling at them. Lief appeared beside her only seconds later, his arms folded severely.

Clearly, they had been waiting for their older friends, and were quite unhappy.

"You're back awfully late," Jasmine commented sharply. "Wherever have you been?"

Lindal shrugged at her. "The dance hall, naturally. The better question would be, wherever have _you_ been? You missed us again, you know."

"It's not all we missed, is it?"

Barda sighed, wondering why the young woman was being so passive, all of a sudden. "What are you talking about, Jasmine? If you'd like to say something, say it."

While Jasmine stuck her nose in the air and stubbornly refused to speak to him again, Lief took a deep breath.

"Barda, we know what you've been doing."

"What do you mean? What did I do?"

"This morning, after we left… You weren't cleaning the house, were you? You had never even planned to."

"Excuse me?" Lindal demanded, her eyes shifting nervously into an empty corner. "Of course we were cleaning the house."

Jasmine scoffed. "So _that's_ what they're calling it these days," she muttered. "Look, we already know that you did it, so don't bother lying to us anymore. We're not stupid."

Lindal and Barda stared at them for a moment, not really ashamed, but astounded and a little embarrassed that they had been caught so quickly.

"How on earth do you know this?" Lindal demanded.

"Let's say a little bird told us," Lief answered evenly.

"You were acting strangely this morning, Barda," Jasmine continued in a rush of mixed emotions. "You weren't like yourself and it worried me; so I asked Kree to say here and keep an eye on you, just in case something was wrong. But I never imagined that I would come back to… _This_!"

Furious, she stamped her foot on the wooden floor and stormed away in a huff. She seemed so hurt, but it was hard to imagine why. A tense silence settled in her absence; Lief didn't even move to go after her. Meanwhile, Barda stood as rigid as a statue, and Lindal began to fidget.

For all their sneaking around, they had been betrayed by a blackbird. It would have been amusing, if it weren't so embarrassing.

"Perhaps I should take the couch tonight, as I had been before," he said quietly, mostly to Lindal. "It is better this way."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," she agreed, sounding disappointed. She turned to go, patting his shoulder in farewell, and added with a smirk, "There will be another mystery breakfast in the morning, so sleep well."

And she hurried off into the dark of the house, leaving Lief and Barda alone in the light from the kitchen. Another very awkward silence settled between them, until Lief found the nerve to sigh heavily.

"Barda, before you go to sleep, can we talk for a few minutes?"

Sensing that the impending talk would take much longer than just a few minutes, but feeling that he owed the boy an explanation for his actions, Barda nodded and followed Lief into the kitchen.

To Barda's surprise, there was a pair of empty, red-stained glasses on the kitchen table, and a bottle with only a few glasses worth of wine left in it. To his even greater surprise, Lief had gone to find a clean glass, and was now filling it with what was left of the bottle's contents.

"I thought you didn't have the stomach for wine," Barda commented. "When did you change your mind?"

"I didn't," he answered, handing over the clean, filled glass. "It was Jasmine's idea."

Barda wondered at this, while Lief refilled his own glass. Now there wasn't even a whole serving left in the bottle.

"So…" Lief was anxiously fiddling with his glass, glancing into the darkness beyond the kitchen door, as if to make sure no one was spying on them. Satisfied that they were alone, his blue eyes suddenly filled with a boyish curiosity that Barda hadn't seen there in years.

"What's it like?"

Barda blinked at him in genuine shock. "…Come again?"

"What is it like?" Lief repeated, slower and less forceful than before. "I can't stand it anymore—please tell me!"

"It is absolutely nothing you need to know," Barda insisted gruffly, hurrying to sit at the table so that Lief couldn't see how red he had turned. To his chagrin, Lief followed and sat down beside him.

"Barda, please. No one is ever willing to talk about the hard things like this. How else am I supposed to know anything?"

"You'll just have to wait and find it all out when you're married," Barda answered solidly, channeling his old drill instructor as best he could. It was the same answer he had received, when he had been younger and curious. It was the same answer all the young squires got. And for the most part, it had been a perfectly good answer.

But Lief just made a face. He looked puzzled, and slightly hurt.

"You didn't wait," he pointed out sullenly, gazing dejectedly into his glass. "Now, all of a sudden, I'm not so sure if I should have to wait, either."

"No, no, no, no, no, that's not the point—"

"Then what _is_ the point? I keep asking, but no one will tell me!"

Frustrated, the young man ran his fingers through his hair. "You don't understand how hard—I mean—difficult it can be," he said, clearly trying to choose words that sounded more tasteful. "There are all these things that I… want… But everyone makes it seem like such a bad thing. Unless there is a marriage, oh, then it's perfectly acceptable. But otherwise, oh no, it's a terrible sin. I don't know what to think. I don't even know how I'm supposed to feel about it. It's exhausting."

Barda sighed deeply, trying to decide how to respond to that. Lief had a good point. He deserved an honest answer.

After all, he had been an impatient and curious boy once, himself. Of course he understood.

"I don't think it's quite so black and white," he said at last. "There is a lot that goes into such an act—many reasons, many emotions, many thoughts… Though, perhaps, not always so much of that last thing."

"So you don't think this was wrong?"

"For one split second I did, because, like you, it was something I had been taught was unconditionally true. But then, I realized that perhaps it was wrong to assume that way. When a thing is forbidden, it will either appear more desirable, or uninteresting. Unlike most people, I have the sense to find what is forbidden to be uninteresting. It is a large part of the reason I am still alive."

"Then this was quite a change for you. What made you decide to do it?"

"Why did Jasmine decide she wanted to drink half a bottle of wine all by herself? Because she is a grown person who is full of feelings, and can make both good and poor decisions for her own self. I don't like to admit it, Lief, but even I have my downfalls. Even I have moments of emotion and weakness. I'm only one man—one human man—after all."

Lief nodded in understanding. "That's the whole reason she's so angry in the first place, you know. People at home make such a big fuss about us being chaste and pure and strong in the face of youthful desire, as if we were too stupid to know it ourselves. And then there's you, she said after three glasses—a rock we should be able to lean on, someone we should be able to look to as an example, because you would always do the right thing. And then, this… It really hurt her feelings, Barda. It's shaken her. Though I suspect that was mostly the wine talking, not her."

Barda nodded thoughtfully, trying not to let those words sting too badly. "It hardly seemed like her to be so angry. Surprise, even shock, I would have understood, but anger? I thought something wasn't right. She'll have an awful headache in the morning."

"And I have a feeling that she will apologize for everything she said—if she remembers what she said at all. In all honesty, I was surprised to see her run off all on her own like that. I thought she would have tripped, stumbled at least."

"Having naturally perfect balance has its uses, it seems."

The comment finally coaxed a smile and even a gentle laugh out of Lief. Barda glanced at him, looked at him for the first time since sitting down, and was also moved to smile. Lief was still staring into his wine, or perhaps past it; it was plain from his easy, contented smile that he was thinking of Jasmine. He was thinking of her lovingly, as he remembered the many, many times her gracefulness, agility, and deep connection to nature had saved his life.

He wasn't thinking of her in desire, or lust, or the heat of wild romance. It was in appreciation, and deep affection. It hadn't exploded into life like a tongue of flame, but had rather grown slowly, almost completely silently.

Barda thought back to the moment it had all begun, and distinctly remembered himself predicting that this would happen eventually, no matter what anyone said. It had been like an acorn, then, planted in an obvious place on a path he treaded often. And he had simply grown so accustomed to the idea of it being there, he had stopped noticing it for a while. And so he had missed seeing the exact moment it had poked itself out of the ground for the first time. He hadn't seen as it had grown into a sturdy sapling. Only recently had he looked up to discover that, while he hadn't been paying attention, the dinky, goofy little acorn had grown into a mightily impressive oak tree, just as he had predicted.

Why on earth had it baffled him so much, to see it come to pass? He had known all along that it would happen, if he just waited long enough. Such a silly man, he was, unable to decide what he wanted.

Maybe he had never really known what he wanted, until just now.

"Lief, has no one ever talked to you about this?" he asked.

Lief shrugged. "Beyond encouraging me to keep it together, no. Not really. I imagine my father would have done so, except… He kind of… Well, he died before I realized I was interested in a girl."

"You weren't before?"

"No, I don't think so. I had always thought that girls were stupid, or else scary. And for a long time, Jasmine only made me believe it more strongly. I can't even remember when that feeling changed. I think it happened when I wasn't looking; maybe I was in the middle of fighting a monster, and had other things on my mind."

Barda grunted in agreement, wondering if Lief had somehow read his mind, and slowly sipped his wine. "Women are a mystery."

"I don't know, you certainly seem to like Lindal."

"She is still a mystery, and one I might never solve, even if we lived a lifetime together. But I suppose that isn't a terrible thing. Menfolk aren't usually difficult to figure out, so it's left to women to be the interesting ones. My mother said that once when I was a boy, and I found it insulting then; I reflected on it a while back, and suddenly realized that it's just the truth."

Lief drummed his fingers on the table before clearing his throat cautiously. "Do you think you _will_, though? Live a lifetime with Lindal, I mean. When all of this is over and done, will you come back and marry her?"

Barda had to think about this for a moment, because he hadn't given it any thought whatever. So far, it had simply been a thrilling affair; one which had inspired great feeling and relationship, but an affair, all the same. Besides, _love_ was a serous word, only for use when it was really meant, and neither of them had said it once. What did that mean?

He didn't like to say it to Lief, who was still young and impressionable, who always looked to him for guidance and wisdom, but he had to speak the truth.

"I'm not sure yet," he said slowly. "I… Would like to, but I have no way of knowing what she will want when this is over."

Lief looked disappointed by his answer. "It doesn't seem right to me…"

"This is a thing I now believe we must decide on for ourselves. As I said before, we are grown people who are filled with feelings, who can make good and poor decisions for our own selves. Maybe this decision will turn out to be one of the poorer ones; but it was our choice to make, and we will take the consequences of it. I know you wouldn't choose it for yourself; but we are two different people, with different hopes and wants and needs. You shouldn't take all your queues from me. Otherwise, you won't be yourself anymore."

Lief snorted with rueful laughter. "But you've always been such a good person to take queues from."

And Barda had to share his laughter. Up until now, that had always been true. Feeling that the awkwardness and tension between them had eased, somewhat, he decided to take what felt like a risk to his dignity. For the sake of this earnest, confused young man, it was a worthwhile risk to take.

"So, you want to know what it's like, do you?"

"Yes, I do."

"Well…" He took a deep breath, picking the most honest words he could. "It is, beyond a doubt, the most wonderful feeling I have ever known. There is a sense of fear and doubt, at first. But it gives way to a kind of weightlessness, a kind of freedom. There really is nothing else like it. And it is well worth the waiting, to find the one who is willing to walk that way with you."

"It really changes you, doesn't it?"

"That is what everyone says; and I had always thought it was just something that older people say to younger people. But now, I know that it is true. It isn't a change you can see, but one that you will feel, in your heart and mind, where it belongs. It isn't exactly easy to explain. It is simply something that a person will know, when they find it."

"We thought something seemed different about you, this morning. We discussed it a lot today, while we were out. Jasmine was right, there, it did worry us. I don't think we've ever seen you so… Happy, before. You are happy, right?"

"Hm… Yes, in fact. I am very happy, for what I believe is the first time."

Lief smiled, looking very happy, himself. "Then that is enough for me. You've done so much for us. You deserve to find happiness. I'm glad that you finally have."

"Being grown isn't easy, Lief; you know this from experience. So much has been asked of you in the last three years, but I think you've done well. There are obligations and responsibilities that go with adulthood, let alone with being a king. Watching you become the man you are now, with such a strong sense of justice and such a heart for your people, has been a pleasure."

Lief sighed deeply, and lowered his eyes humbly. It seemed that a weight had lifted from him. "Thank you, Barda. I needed to hear that, I think. I suppose I've always known it, but hearing it out loud means much to me."

Glad that this was resolved, Barda raised his glass. "To being an adult."

"To being an adult."

They drank that toast deeply. Barda felt a satisfying rush as the wine speed into his blood, but Lief set his glass down with a grimace.

"I'm still not sure if I care much for this," he commented, shaking his head. "Jasmine barely has the stomach for Queen Bee Cider. How can she _like_ this?"

"We don't necessarily drink wine because it tastes good. Mostly, we drink it because it feels good. It seems that she is simply wise enough to have caught on to this. That bothers me, now that I think of it…"

"I'll try to keep an eye on her, from now on, then. I hope she isn't still angry, tomorrow. If she hadn't been so upset, we might have gone dancing. I would have like that much better than sulking around here all night."

"We'll just have to make sure she does go out, tomorrow night. It would be a pity if you missed Lindal and I a third time. I'm becoming rather good at this."

Lief laughed over the thought, and then pushed his glass away before standing up. "You can have the rest of this, if you want it. One was plenty for me, and I feel good enough without it. I'm going to check on Jasmine, and then go to sleep. This evening has been exhausting."

"You had better get used to the idea. If you plan to marry the girl, there will be many more evenings like this one in your future."

"Oh well," Lief shrugged. "I suppose it's all I get, for falling in love with a wild girl. Thank you for this, Barda. When I say it means a lot to me, I really mean it. No one has ever been willing to talk to me before. I know it must have been difficult for you."

"Not as much as you might guess; but I appreciate your concern. Go on, then, and get some rest."

Leaving him a final, tired smile, Lief stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked off into the darkness. Left alone with his thoughts, Barda marveled at how he, himself, had grown. If Lief had asked him these questions three years ago, he would have mumbled a made up excuse and walked away as quickly as possible. He had never been good at expressing his true feelings; he was a very stoic man by nature, and generally couldn't help it. Growing up, great feeling had never been particularly valued, either. It had always been considered a weakness.

But his time in Broome, where passionate feelings were not only valued but even expected, had changed him. It made a person seem open and welcome, rather than untrusting and secretive, Lindal had explained. To have feelings was human. Who could blame a human being for being human? Why keep your problems to yourself, when sharing them with others could bring council and support?

So had been Lief's thinking, apparently. He had only been met with warnings to control himself, as if having the urges and troubles of any normal young man was his fault, somehow. If only his father had still been alive, he might have gotten the honest, solid answers and reassurance that he had been looking for.

Lindal had a point about that, as well. A confused young man deserved a father who would explain those unique and awkward pains without fearing for his own manliness. Such thoughts and feelings were normal in any young person; and any grown person couldn't become grown without feeling them. They didn't make you a monster, or a bad person, or even immature. They just… Happen.

_That is another responsibility of being an adult, I suppose,_ he realized. _How _can_ I be expected to raise children into good people, if I can't bring myself to do something so basic? How foolish would that be?_

He had never particularly thought of it for himself. But having just shared that strange, candid moment with Lief, he found the hope that perhaps he could one day do the same for children of his own. Having been deprived of his own father, he suddenly found that he would like very much to be that person for someone else.

_Lindal wants children—lots of children—once she finds the right man to be their father. I could be that man… If she agrees…_

That idea was just a little too much for him, at that moment. He drained the rest of his glass quickly to push it away. He thought briefly of pouring the rest of Lief's glass back into it's bottle, until he noticed the coppery tang on the back of his tongue. This bottle had been cheap in quality, probably just the first and least expensive one Jasmine had spotted, and meant only for the end of drowning her anger. It was little wonder that Lief hadn't cared for it.

Barda certainly wasn't going to drink any more of it. Lindal would probably be upset to find it in her house, when her own taste was so much better. He chose instead to pour what was left down the sink, before rinsing, drying, and putting away the three empty glasses.

Since he was alone and his guard was down, he smirked at the sink and mockingly bowed to it.

"Would you care for a dance, my dear?"

The sink gave no reply.

"What a shame," he sighed as he put out the light. "I like to think I've become fairly good at it."

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Barda was woken early on the morning of the seventh day by someone poking his shoulder and hissing his name in the darkness. He opened his eyes, lying on the couch where he had slept, to the light of a candle illuminating Lindal's grinning face close to his own. The sudden light stung his heavy eyes, and he groaned as he pressed his hands to them.

"What time is it, even?" he grumbled.

"Just before dawn," she answered lightly, as if it were no big deal. "Now get up, Barda, we have work to do. Don't you remember?"

Ah, yes, her mystery breakfast. Her pancakes had been such a wonderful surprise, he had been excited to see what other culinary tricks she had up her sleeve. He pushed himself up, feeling stiff after a night spent on the couch. He was used to it, but Lindal's soft bed had been such a nice improvement…

Seeing his discomfort, she clicked her tongue and shook her head. "We'll see if we can't sneak you into a proper bed, this evening," she said firmly. "But this evening is a long way off, and we need our strength. Get up, already!"

Tired of waiting, she took his arm and hauled him to his feet, dragging him back toward the kitchen.

"You're such a caring person," he commented dryly.

"I try," she answered. "How long were you up last night?"

"Not much longer. I think we were all tired."

Lindal scoffed as she lit the kitchen lamps. "I, for one, would have slept much better if you had been with me, as we had planned. I don't see any reason why we had to change those plans on the whims of a drunk child."

Well, now that she put it like that…

"Did Jasmine sleep the whole night?" he asked.

"Oh, hardly," Lindal answered crisply, taking out the pots and pans she needed. "She wretched twice in the night, you know, and made a horrible mess. She's lucky that I was willing to help her. As it was, she woke me both times while _you_ slept like a rock through the whole thing. I don't think she'll be getting out of bed all day. That will teach her to go looking for answers at the bottom of a bottle."

Barda shook his head in dismay, as he took the items Lindal handed him and set them by the stove. "It was so unlike her. It bothered Lief, as well."

She looked at him in friendly curiosity. "What did the two of you talk about, anyway? Was he angry with you? What in earth and heaven did you say to him?"

"The truth. Behind the throne, and the Belt, and the quests, it turns out that he is a remarkably normal boy, with all the questions and pains and no one to talk to about it."

"He has his mother."

"Sharn isn't exactly equipped to explain the sorrows and joys of being a boy, though I am sure she has done her best to be there for him. There is always Doom, I suppose; but he is an oyster, and not the boy's father, besides. It isn't the same."

"But he asked you, and I notice that you are not his father, either."

"He has known and trusted me just as long, though. Longer, even. And perhaps he sensed that I was finally in a place to be able to help him in that way."

Lindal hummed thoughtfully over this, as she surveyed her assembled equipment. Then she turned to her coldbox and began pulling more things out of it.

"You still owe me a dangerous secret of your own, from yesterday's adventure," she pointed out, expertly changing the topic. "You can tell me all about that, while you crack these eggs into that bowl over there. I'm listening."

Barda had nearly forgotten about that, and had sort of hoped that Lindal would have, as well. He should have known by now that it was impossible to get anything past her. He took the carton she handed him, and tried to think of a way to buy a little more time.

"All of these eggs?"

"Yes, all of these eggs."

"Before I tell you anything, you must tell me what you need _all_ of these eggs for."

"For breakfast, naturally. You'll see what it is, soon enough. Now get cracking—literally!"

He sighed in defeat, and set about his assigned tasks. How strange a question could think of to ask, really?

"Alright, then. What do you want to hear about?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but a frustrated groan suddenly came out instead. "Actually… Is it uncalled for that my question centers around Doom, as well? We talk about him a lot, it seems."

"We do have him in common," Barda said with a shrug. "And he has been the cause of many of our troubles. Ask your question."

"Alright. I just really must ask, because he is an insufferable bastard sometimes, why are you always so patient with him? You've always let him off too lightly, when most people of sense would punch a hole in his stomach. Why do you do that? You don't owe him such kindness."

Barda stifled a groan of his own. It was a good enough question, which he had been asked often before. But in all those instances, it was easy to make the excuse that Doom was just a man with many demons and needed more kindness than he was generally shown.

But this was Lindal, and she was asking for the truth. It was a truth he hadn't braced himself to have to tell. He would never have thought to prepare himself for it to come to light.

"That…. Is a very good question," he said slowly, nearly letting a piece of shell fall into the bowl in his flustering.

"So, are you going to answer it or what? I answered your weird question about Doom, and I answered it readily. Out with it, already!"

"Okay, okay, I'm answering. The reason I am so patient with the man is because… Well…."

He took a deep breath, wondering how badly he would shock his friend with this confession.

"Doom is my cousin."

The sound of several things clattering to the floor alerted him that the shock had been great, indeed. He spun around to look at Lindal, and found her staring wide-eyed and slack-jawed at him. He could have just sprouted an extra head, or a barbed tail, the way she was looking at him. A clay jug lay smashed on the floor, the milk it had held splashed on her bare feet and the wall. There was also a small broken plate, the mound of butter it had carried lying in the puddle of milk, alongside a loaf of bread that was quickly being ruined.

She was clearly unable to speak, and wasn't going to for a moment or two. Barda was mostly just concerned that if she moved, she would cut herself on a splinter of broken pottery.

"Lindal, don't move," he commanded, wiping his hands on his leggings. "I'm going to put on shoes, and help you out of that mess. I'll be right back."

Surely, if she was too stunned to speak, she was too stunned to move much. And, being such an expert in the kitchen, she would know not to move with broken things on the floor, and no shoes to protect her.

He returned not only with shoes on, but also with a towel to clean up the spilled milk. And he returned to find Lindal exactly as he had left her, staring into space as she tried to wrap her head around what he just said. He scooped her into his arms, as he had done the day before, and set her into a chair at the table. Then he tossed the towel onto the puddle, and went to fetch the broom from its place in the corner.

As he began to sweep the scattered fragments, Lindal recovered just enough to lean one arm on the table and prop her spinning head in her hand.

"How… In heaven's name… How is it even possible?" she exclaimed suddenly.

"Lindal, please, keep your voice down," he said evenly. "It's nothing the children need to know about."

"However can Doom be your _cousin_?" she demanded, not keeping her voice down at all. "It makes absolutely no sense whatever!"

"And if you could lower your voice, I could explain how it actually makes perfect sense."

She turned in her chair to pin him with an incredulous look. "Explain, then," she said, not believing him in the slightest. "I'm dying to hear this tale."

Still sweeping, he began to tell the long, complicated story.

"Well, you remember me telling you about how my mother was Endon's nursemaid, when he was a boy."

"I don't see how that has anything to do with anything," Lindal interrupted. Barda silenced her with an imploring look, and continued.

"Anyway, she was mostly responsible for raising the prince; but she found it a shame that he had no brothers or sisters to keep him company, and he was often a lonely boy. Of course, mother would have had the two of us play together, but of course it simply wouldn't do. Even though his nursemaid was my own mother, the prince and I were kept as far apart as possible, most of the time.

"But all of that changed suddenly, around the time I was five years old. I had an aunt and uncle who also lived and worked at the palace, until they took ill and passed away. They left behind a single child—Jarred, my younger cousin. Naturally, being the monster he was, chief advisor Prandine had wanted him removed from the palace; but the king and queen were good people, at heart, and wouldn't allow such a thing.

"That was where mother stepped in. Being the only family Jarred had left, she insisted it was only right that he remain with us. And besides, she pointed out, prince Endon needed a playmate his own age. Prandine railed against it, of course; but she was allowed to keep the child, in the end, on one condition. She was not to reveal her relation to the boy—he was not to know who his parents were, or where he came from, or that it was his own aunt who had saved him. The chief advisor wanted the boy to grow up feeling abandoned, and beholden, and worthless. Hilariously, that was not how it worked out…"

Lindal made a face. "And where does Doom fit into all this?"

"I just explained it clearly," Barda answered evenly, smiling teasingly. "As it turns out, Doom _is_ my cousin Jarred."

The giant woman banged her fists on the table in shock. "His name was _Jarred_?"

"Yes, and you are not to let him know I was the one who told you so."

"Does he know about all this?"

"…No, he doesn't. It's complicated. Being kept as far from them as possible, I was never able to really know anything about my cousin, not even what he looked like. And I was so small when it all happened, I eventually forgot altogether which boy was Endon and which was Jarred. They were always carrying on in palace fashion, and honestly looked quite alike to me. All I knew was that one or other of them was my cousin, and that it would mean my head if I ever mentioned it to anyone. Frankly, I think mother may have taken a great risk confiding the secret in me.

"And then, on the day Endon became king, my cousin was accused of treason and driven from the palace. We all thought he was dead for the longest time. He reappeared seven years later, when the Shadow Lord finally invaded. He saved Endon's life, and Sharn's, and the unborn child that would turn out to be Lief. And then…. I stumbled into the picture."

"Ah, this part I know," Lindal said, sounding pleased to finally know what was going on. "You survived that first attack, and wandered in a daze down to the forge, where you met the blacksmith and his wife—little knowing that it was the king and queen in disguise."

"Yes, indeed. It was Jarred's idea for them to take his and his wife's place. It was a more perfect disguise than he knew at the time. It fooled me well. Too well…"

Lindal's face changed a few times, from puzzlement, to pondering, to revelation. "He called himself Jarred. You thought the man was your cousin."

"Yes. I did."

Barda set the broom aside and came to sit at the table. "Once I had explained who I was, and he realized that I was the one whose mother he had rather stolen, Endon was all too happy to invite me into the grand scheme. It made me wonder at the time, but I had no other place to go. And I thought he was family. The only family I had left. How could I have said no? I was just happy that I could finally know him and be with him. It was all I had ever wanted."

"So why didn't you tell him, then?"

"Because enough was troubling him without revealing family secrets. And mother was heavy on his mind, in that moment. She had risked everything to help him, and he had ignored her. He couldn't stop apologizing to me, for so many reasons. It seemed cruel to me, to tell him who I really was. And as time wore on, it just felt that perhaps it was better that way."

"And, indeed, it was. He wasn't really your cousin at all."

"No, but we became good friends. It is all too easy for people to forget that I still spent 16 years of my life living with those people. We shared a home, and meals, and stories, and secrets, and hopes and plans. You don't spend that much time with people without becoming close to them. Endon became the first real, true friend I had ever had; but by the time I discovered who he really was, it was too late."

Lindal was silent, thinking this over. "But they explained themselves, before the end. They explained who they were, and how clever they had been. You finally knew the truth… And you still didn't come right out with it?"

Barda shook his head. "I didn't have the nerve to put it into words like I had wanted to. My entire world had just been turned upside down. Everything I thought I knew about my best friends, and the children I had saved so many times, and the cantankerous old shadow who couldn't seem to stay out of our quest….. All of it was wrong. Quite wrong. I almost wasn't sure which way was up anymore, and was nearly beyond the point of caring. I was just about ready to give up trying to keep it sorted out."

"Hm. I suppose I can understand that. So, your cousin Jarred was actually the lost king Endon; and the man you knew as Doom was actually your cousin Jarred. And Lief is the not-Jarred's son, which makes him the next king; and Jasmine is the Jarred-Jarred's daughter, which makes her your…. Second-cousin? Wow. That _is_ upsetting. And confusing. How did you people ever figure it all out?"

"Eventually," Barda shrugged. "It seems a tangled web of deceit when you try to say it out loud; but when you step back and think of it, the concept is annoyingly simple and makes a great deal of sense. It is exactly the sort of plan he would come up with."

"So why haven't you told him? Or Jasmine? Don't you think they would want to know?"

"Doom has other things to worry about right now. So does Jasmine. Perhaps one day, when all of this is behind us, I will finally tell them the truth, as I have always wanted to. It is a matter that deserves all our focus. It isn't fair to surprise them with it right now."

Lindal sighed heavily, still absorbing the story. "Well," she said slowly, "that was quite a secret. Perhaps more than I had bargained for. And no one else knows of it? Only the two of us?"

"Not even Sharn knows of it, and she has come to know all sorts of wicked things about me," he agreed. "But she does not know this. I'm not sure if I want her to. All the same… I've always wished to explain this to someone, because it is a terrible weight to carry around all on oneself. I had simply grown used to the weight, told myself to forget about it, but it still pricks at the back of my mind from time to time. It has been good to say it out loud, instead of just fuming to myself."

She smiled understandingly and placed her hand over his. "It will be our little secret, my bear. I won't breathe a word of it to another soul. That is a promise."

He smiled gratefully back, and raised her fingers to his lips. It was a simple, affectionate action, without any flourishes or grand gestures. In that split second, though, he could feel a spark of passion flaring between them, threatening to set this quiet moment raging out of control. Lindal certainly felt it, too. She looked him intently in the eye, fire in her face, perhaps on the verge of pouncing on him right then and there.

Except she found the nerve to control herself, and quelled that fire by looking over her shoulder at the mess on her floor.

"That was my mystery breakfast," she sighed. "We might have to skip down to the market, you and I. We can't make breakfast without milk and day-old bread."

"Will we find those things so early?"

"Oh, most certainly. We can go and be back, and have breakfast ready long before the children wake. And it's only right to buy something that Jasmine can keep down, I suppose," she said firmly, rising and walking off. "Its dry toast and tea for her, today."

"Wherever are you going, my lynx?" Barda asked, following her.

"To find my own shoes, so we can be off. I'm losing patience with this meal. Secrets make me hungry, it seems."

"Everything makes you hungry."

"Just come along. The sooner we are out and alone, the better."

She was taking his story in remarkable stride, considering how it had shocked her before. Perhaps she was trying not to think of it too deeply by thinking with her stomach, instead.

Yes, he supposed. The sooner they were out of the house, and alone, and thoughts of Doom were somewhere behind them, the better they would both be. As Lindal finally dragged him out of her house and into the pale early morning light, it dawned on Barda that he had already been in Broome for an entire week. It was a generous vacation, considering the danger they were all facing. There was still some time left, but it was quickly running out. This peaceful, blissful, happy time was going to end all too soon.

Barda firmly decided that Doom wasn't going to haunt another second of that precious time. The past was past, and all its awfulness with it. The future was looming closer and closer, filled with awfulness of its own. For now, his present had no awfulness in it. From now on, he was going to unquestioningly enjoy it.

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That seventh day was spent being remarkably busy. With Jasmine sick in her bed, and Lief remaining vigilantly nearby, there was no chance of sneaking around them. The two were amazingly tired that morning—even Lief, who had hardly done anything exciting at all. It seemed that a week of darting in and out of alleyways, as he had in another time, had worn him out. Apparently, Lindal was to laugh later, adventures were becoming too much for an old-timer like the king.

And so, Lindal and Barda went to and returned from the market, made and enjoyed arguably the best breakfast casserole in Deltora, and cleaned up after themselves without being disturbed once. It was nice, especially when their young friends kept complaining that they were cloistering themselves away from everyone else. Suddenly, though, it was clear to Lindal that a large and obvious part of her old bear's usual day was missing, and that he felt it keenly.

"Life is far too short to sit around this house another day longer," she decided, trying to distract him from his worry. "Now that I can trust you to mind your manners, let me take you for a proper look around the city. You could do with the fresh air, I'm sure; you've barely been outside in a week! It's a wonder you aren't dying of cabin fever by now."

Noticing her effort and appreciating it, he smiled and nodded agreement. "I would like that. And I will be on my very best behavior, I promise it."

Lindal was so thrilled and so excited, she had briefly thought about changing into a skirt for the occasion. She only decided against it because it didn't look like the day would get much warmer than it was, and she would be more comfortable dressed in thick leggings. Though she knew that Barda liked her just as she was, she was enjoying the chance to impress him with her cooking skills and natural good looks. And he hadn't laughed at her efforts or turned her away, so she assumed that he was enjoying being impressed.

She had never been particularly compelled to put on airs for any man, before. None that she had ever met had struck her fancy in that way. It was an impulse she had always secretly hoped she had. It was a very natural, very womanly impulse, she had always thought, and there was no real reason to fight it. Finally having someone to exercise it on was refreshing to a large part of herself which had fallen to the wayside.

Lindal had always agreed with herself that even though she was the best hunter in Broome and a fierce fighter, there was no reason why she couldn't also be the graceful, pretty, occasionally very dainty and fanciful woman she secretly was. She liked to think that if she had the long auburn hair of her girlhood, she would still braid it and tie it up in silk ribbons. She also liked to imagine that if had been less adventurous, she would wear brightly dyed dresses, flowing scarves, and beautifully crafted jewelry more often than she did.

It was a part of her that few ever got to see, because no one ever asked. No one had ever seemed to believe it could really be there. But Barda had believed it. He had seen it, and he genuinely appreciated it. She hoped, perhaps, that he might even… _Love_ it.

_He had better,_ she realized as they crept out of the house again. _If he doesn't, there isn't much of a chance for the easy friendship we had before. What would we even do with ourselves afterward? How could we bear to even look at one another again?_

As an experiment, she cautiously reached for Barda's hand. Lief and Jasmine went everywhere hand in hand, after all. They made no bones at all about their obvious affection. Why should she have to hide hers?

Feeling her fingers brush against his in invitation, he snatched her hand into his at once and gently tugged her closer to his side. Lindal hadn't realized how nervous she had been about it, until she suddenly felt overwhelmingly relieved.

_Why should I be so nervous?_ She demanded of herself. She supposed it was simply the uncertainty of the near future, leaving all sorts of fears looming in the back of her mind.

_I must stop worrying about that time,_ she told herself. _There will be time to worry about those things later. For now, we are together and enjoying ourselves. It will all be over soon enough. Moments like these are to be savored. There isn't time to be nervous._

But now that it had occurred to her, the idea that had begun as a distant fear was snowballing into sudden dread. A horrible thought pierced her mind like a dart.

_Barda can't stay here forever. He will have to leave, and soon. What if he never returns…?_

"Lindal, are you well?"

She looked up from her thoughts at Barda, who was staring down the few centimeters that separated them in concern.

"All at once, you seem upset. Is something wrong?"

Lindal hadn't realized how withdrawn she had become in the last few minutes. Sorry to have startled her lover so badly, she resumed her usual grin and tossed her head.

"Oh, it was nothing," she insisted. "I'm fine. You see? I need the fresh air, myself! Come, there is one place in particular I had meant to show you."

She hauled him off in the direction of the town wall, stopping frequently to point things out along the way and to exchange greetings with people who hailed her. Barda didn't complain once about these delays. He simply let her drag him around town, admiring everything she stopped to show him, and returning warm greetings to everyone he met without commenting on anyone's appearance.

Lindal was very proud of him. She had trained him well, she decided with a smile, as she watched him shake hands with one of her friends.

Barda excused himself, and stepped aside briefly to examine the wares of a vendor on the street corner. While he pointed at items arranged around the stall and politely spoke to the vendor, Lindal's friend rushed to her side and began whispering excitedly to her.

"Lindal, whoever is this handsome stranger of yours? And why did you never think to introduce him to me first?"

"I only just met him myself, Kate," Lindal answered with a slight laugh.

Kate scoffed at her. "Yet here you are, waltzing around with your hands glued together, as if you had been courting for months. Whatever has happened with you?"

"I suppose I hit my head pretty hard recently," she said lightly, only half joking. She had returned to Broome in sorry shape, bruised and singed; when her people asked her what had happened to her, she had merely said that it was just an occupational hazard for a wild woman. No one knew that she had been injured at Dragon's Nest, or anything that had happened there.

And Kate was the last person Lindal was going to explain it all to. Kate was her friend from childhood, but the woman was a gossip. Now that she had seen Lindal with a tall, handsome stranger, the whole city was going to know that its finest warrior was involved with someone. Five different versions of the story and scads of half-baked rumors would be circulating by the time the sunset. Lindal could only imagine the welcome she and Barda would receive at the dance hall this evening…

"Well," Kate said craftily, "if you get bored with him, send him my way. Isn't he the man who came with the young king?"

"Yes, Barda is captain of the guard, in fact," Lindal answered, trying to not show how peeved she was by her friend's words. "The two work quite closely."

"Ah, so he is good with kids, is he…?"

"What are you getting at, Kate?"

"Oh, my apologies, Lindal. It isn't right to dream of a future with another woman's man."

"No, it isn't," she agreed tersely.

"Still, my friend, you aren't really dreaming of a future with him, are you? He is of Del, and you are of Broome, for one. For another thing, it's hardly in you to settle down. As soon as you got out of the Resistance, you said so, yourself—'I shall never go back to that life again,' you said."

"I meant that about the Resistance, not about a stable life and a family. I want very badly to settle down, and you know that. We've spoken of it often before."

"Lindal, really," Kate chided, shaking her head, "I think I know you better than that by now. A woman like you can't be tamed _that_ easily. A casual affair is one thing—and I'm rather proud of you for coming out of your shell—but to dream of a future? That's hardly what handsome strangers are for, dear."

"Kate, this is different. I know it sounds foolish, stupid even, but it is true. This is different. This is special. I know it."

"Do you really believe you've fallen so hard, just like that?" Kate answered, snapping her fingers for emphasis. "And you can't really expect him to love you back so easily. Men don't work that way, and you know it."

Lindal narrowed her eyes. "Barda isn't like other men."

Kate looked at her incredulously. "He's a _man_, isn't he?"

Lindal opened her mouth to speak sharply, but then snapped it shut again. All of a sudden, she was filled with doubts. Kate had a good point. Some men were certainly better than others, and Barda was surely one of the best of them; however, they all shared the same, inevitable problem. No matter how good or bad they might be, they were all boar-headed, self-absorbed, single-minded men. It was a fact of life that simply couldn't be avoided.

And even if Barda was as good a man as you could ask for, he was still a man like any other. She had seen him being boar-headed, self-absorbed, and single-minded. She had seen him think with his muscles instead of his head, and fall into disaster because of it. She had dealt with him being stubborn and vain, worried over what others would say if he appeared to be weak in any way. All those typically manly things that Lindal could never hope to understand, she knew she had seen in her own man over the past seven days.

In the first few hours of knowing him, it had been a nuisance. At one point he had been prepared to slice her head off, and she had been prepared to skewer him in return. From where she was now, it seemed comic. All of that had happened before they had really known each other. They had both been tired, angry, and afraid. And besides, he had apologized for lashing out at her.

The adventure at Dragon's Next had followed soon after, and that experience had changed them. They had gone from being allies to being friends. In the days that came after, over the long hours of dancing and talking over glasses of good wine, they had become far better friends than they had noticed.

And now, thinking over the ways in which she noticed he hadn't changed a bit, she discovered that they didn't matter to her as the used to. He was a man, and those little things were a part of him which couldn't be changed. If that was the way it had to be, then let it be. She liked him just as he was.

She smirked at her friend, who was waiting patiently for her to respond.

"Kate, you are right. He is a man, like any other. But he is _my_ man, and that's what matters."

Kate looked surprised. "And you still think he must feel the same about you? Next thing, you'll be going around telling people that it's true love, as if you were the hero of a fairy story."

Lindal wrinkled her nose. "I never said that."

"You didn't have to. You know those sorts of things don't happen to real people, Lindal. You're not a little girl anymore, you know; you should leave this daydreaming behind you."

"What a pity that would be," a deep voice commented. Barda had rejoined them, and seemed to have only heard Kate's last remark. Lindal couldn't help but feel grateful for that. Her friend had been extremely blunt, and her words hadn't been meant for anyone else.

Kate raised an eyebrow teasingly at him. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Lindal has a wonderful imagination, don't you think?" the big man answered lightly. "It would be a pity to see it put aside. The world would be a much less colorful place without it, and this world needs all the color it can get, presently."

Again, Kate looked surprised. Lindal laughed and strode to take his hand again. To her great pleasure, he put his arm around her shoulders instead. Now they were standing shoulder to shoulder, immovable before Kate. Her bluntness and teasing couldn't possibly topple a tower like them.

Finally, she shrugged. "You're going to spoil her, talking like that. Now Lindal will never grow up, and after we thought she was making progress."

Lindal shook her head, and nudged Barda with her elbow. "Don't listen to her, old bear. Don't ever grow up—I suspect it is a trap."

"I suspect you are right," he agreed, squeezing her shoulder gently.

For a long moment, they grinned at each other in triumph, and also in great affection. All of Lindal's doubts were gone, as suddenly as they had appeared. She felt so strong, so much bigger than normal, standing here with Barda. He was supporting her, but she was also supporting him. They were so much more when they were together. There was such a feeling of rightness about it.

Kate must have seen it too, because she cleared her throat awkwardly and looked her face flushed slightly. "Well, I'll be on my way, then," she said carelessly, turning to go. "I trust I will see you this evening. Promise me you'll stay out of trouble, now."

Not promising her anything at all, Lindal and Barda wordlessly went off in the opposite direction. After they had gone a way in companionable silence, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small package of leather and twine.

"Now that your friend is beyond hearing of it, I think I can give you this in peace," he said, offering her the package with a smile. Her eyes alight, Lindal took the package and turned it over curiously.

"I didn't see you buy anything," she commented. "I thought you were just looking."

"Well, you weren't paying attention. It's always easiest to surprise someone when they're distracted. Open it!"

"Wait a moment. I'll open it when we get where we're going. It isn't much farther ahead."

At last they came to a place where the city began to slope upward gently. From a distance, it was easy to miss the three low hills on the far side of the city. Once inside the city, however, they stood out clearly, rising unthreateningly over everything else, even providing shadows by which to tell the time. Shops and dwellings and public works were built upon those hillsides, and the wall that surrounded Broome was not much farther away.

"We were on our way here, not too long ago," Barda commented, recognizing the hill they had reached. "Then you suddenly decided that dancing was more important, and abandoned the whole thing."

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry I forgot so easily," Lindal replied as they began to walk briskly up paved road that wound up the hillside. "There was something at the top I thought might interest you."

Barda gazed around in what seemed to be puzzlement as he climbed. "These houses seem to be deserted. Has something happened here?"

"No, these are just the guest houses. Back when people still traveled frequently, or when traders from the east came into port, they could stay in these cabins free of charge for as long as they needed to. All that was ever asked of them was to clean up after themselves when they left."

"That was all? That is very generous of the city."

"Our ancestors could have used such hospitality, when they first came to this place. It isn't in us to demand payment from travelers, for what we consider a basic need. It isn't right to profit on a person's needs; at least, we don't think so. As it is, few people travel here anymore. These cabins are usually empty, these days."

"You could have let us take one of the cabins, you know."

"And refuse my home to friends in need? Certainly not! What kind of person do you take me for? And besides, think of all the good it's done the two of us."

Reflecting contentedly on that, they reached the top of the hill and were greeted by a brilliant sight. The hilltop was graced by a lone cabin, a copy of all the others below it. It must have been the most envied cabin of the bunch, because the view from the top of the hill was incredible. The tallest of the three hills, it was high enough that from the top, one could peer over the wall, out onto the glittering Sea of Serpents.

The autumn sun was sparkling on the far-off waves. The day was so clear and bright, it could just as well have been a nice day to spend on the beach. Only the crisp morning air betrayed this. The soft breeze was cool and fresh, tangy with the taste of the sea, ringing with the distant cries of sea birds.

Because they were alone and so high up, Lindal and Barda were the only ones who saw the ruby red dragon suddenly descend from the sky and dive into the chill surf. The dragon appeared only as a streak of red, like lightning; if they hadn't been looking in just the right place at just the right moment, they might have missed it entirely.

"I wonder if the dragon is hunting, or merely playing," Barda commented with a vague smile. "It must be glad to be awake once again."

He was plainly filled with awe, but Lindal was instinctively suspicious. She wanted to believe that the dragon had no interest in the walled city, but something deep in her blood prevented it.

"You know," she said instead, grinning excitedly, "the main reason I brought you here was because of this cabin. Apparently, Doran the Dragonlover stayed in this one whenever he came here. He liked to the view, they say."

Barda's eyes were wide with amazement and curiosity. "Is that so? However did you learn of it?"

"Oh, everyone knows of it. This cabin is now quite famous. Look here, they dedicated the place to him after he disappeared."

She pointed at a brassy plaque mounted beside the cabin door, tarnished and weathered by the salty breezes over the years.

_In fond memory of Doran of Del, explorer in the time of King Lucan,_ the plaque read. _Friend to our city, and most honored of guests. May he one day return to dance again with us beneath the stars._

"They really admired him here," Barda said quietly, reading the inscription. "He certainly wasn't admired in Del. It's nice to know that someone appreciated his work."

Lindal licked her thumb and tried to rub a spot from the plaque. "I understand that he was a rather odd man, and known for speaking his heart and mind very plainly. In that case, he would have fit in well here. He would have made friends quickly and easily."

Barda sighed deeply, and gazed back out to sea. "No wonder he preferred this cabin. In his time, he must have been able to see hundreds of Ruby dragons from here. It is a beautiful view. I should never want another one. It is a wonder this place isn't used more often."

"I wonder what happened to him…?"

They shared a moment of respectful silence, remembering the brave explorer they had never met but had heard so many tales of. The Shadow Lord had caught up to him, in the end. Whatever had happened to Doran, it had not been pleasant. He had risked everything, and risked it gladly. It was difficult to think of. Now that they were here, it was hard not to think of.

Lindal sank down on the stoop and let her head rest against the door. She smiled vaguely as she turned her thoughts back to her childhood.

"When I was child, I used to climb to the top of this hill all the time," she said, prompting Barda to join her. "It's such a peaceful place. The noise of the city is so far away here. It's just you, the wind, and the sea. It's a good place to be by oneself, to think or study or dream of things."

"I can see that," he agreed, still watching the sea for a sign of the dragon. After another moment of happy silence, he was rewarded. A streak of red exploded from the surface of the water and wheeled off into the sky, heading back toward Dragon's Nest.

He was thrilled. She was just relieved that the dragon didn't seem to have noticed the city at all.

"Well, here we are," Barda pointed out suddenly. "Open your present now. I want to see your face!"

Smiling, Lindal fished the leather package from her pocket. She untied the twine that bound it and unfolded the material, to discover a pair of earrings. They were stunningly simple, polished gemstones, on hooks of silver. They were small and plain, without any other decoration to distract from how perfect they already were. She was positively delighted.

"Turquoise…"

"Your favorite, I know. I thought it wrong for you not to have them. I take it you like them, then?"

"I'm going to put them on right now," she agreed, expertly slipping them into her ears. She was dying to see how she looked, and wished that she had a mirror. But she did have Barda. His opinion would more than suffice for now.

"So, how do they look?" she asked, turning to him and giving him a winning smile. He paused to just admire her for a moment, and then sighed happily as he touched her face.

"You look beautiful," he said sincerely. Before she had a chance to respond, he pulled her close and surprised her with a kiss.

_How bold he has become,_ she thought, returning the kiss with a thrill of excitement. _This never would have happened a week ago. He would have been far too afraid of being seen by someone. And…_

She couldn't help giggling to herself. _He thinks I'm beautiful! I don't know if a man has ever said that to me before! Oh, what a victory this is!_

Her heart felt impossibly full, less like was bursting and more like it was flying. And even though it was a slim chance that they would "practice their dance" or "clean her house" this evening, she was remarkably happy. Happier than she had been in a long time.

She liked to think that somewhere in the afterlife, the wild and untamable spirit of Doran approved of what was happening outside his usual cabin…

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_Author's Notes…._

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Part of me is really excited that there will be a fourth chapter. Another part of me just wants this fic to die. I've got other crap to work feverishly on. :/

I know that drunk Jasmine will cause waves. I hadn't planned on it, it just kind of…. Presented itself. I needed a plot device, okay?

Kate and Lindal's conversation. It may have been loosely based on _Hercules_… And by "loosely based", I mean basically copied directly from.

Meg: He's honest, and sweet—

Hades: Please….

Meg: And he would never do anything to hurt me—

Hades: _HE'S A GUY._

The original sassy gay friend. We all have that ne friend… XD

Oh glob…. On to the next chater….. 0.o


End file.
